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THE  SPHINX  BY  MOONLIGHT 


PREFACE 

I  ENDEAVOURED,  in  a  former  book  on  Egypt,  to 
give  my  hrst  impressions  while  the  glamour  of  the 
East  had  not  been  dimmed  by  familiarity ;  and  the 
kind  reception  of  that,  my  first  literary  attempt,  has 
encouraged  me  to  write  again  after  spending  some 
years  in  the  Nile  Valley.  Though  first  impressions 
may  have  a  charm  which  familiarity  lacks,  it  would  be 
astonishing  if  a  country  so  full  of  beauty,  and  of  such 
varied  interests  as  is  Egypt,  had  caused  familiarity  to 
breed  contempt.  I  may  safely  say  that  it  has  not  had 
that  result.  A  lengthened  stay  has  certainly  added  to 
my  experiences  as  well  as  to  my  stock  of  drawings, 
and  I  trust  it  has  also  given  me  some  insight  into  the 
character  of  the  people  amidst  whom  I  dwelt. 

Mediaeval  Cairo  is  doubtless  year  by  year  the  poorer 
by  many  picturesque  '  bits '  which  have  vanished.  But 
Cairo  is  a  large  city,  and  happily  many  years  may  elapse 
before  artists  will  cease  to  go  there  for  material.  What 
is  still  untouched  by  the  jerry  builder,  or  has  not  been 
allowed  to  fall  into  ruin,  is  probably  more  beautiful 
than    anything    other    oriental    cities    can    show.      Less 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

change  is  seen  in  the  smaller  towns,  and  the  villages  are 
much  the  same  in  aspect  as  when  the  Saracen  invaders 
first  occupied  the  valley  of  the  Nile. 

Every  season  adds  to  the  knowledge  of  Ancient 
Egypt,  and  gives  us  something  which  for  centuries  lay 
hid  beneath  the  desert  sands.  It  was  my  good  fortune 
to  spend  some  winters  at  Thebes  while  some  of  the 
most  interesting  of  recent  discoveries  were  made, 
and  through  the  courtesy  of  Mr.  Weigall,  the  Chief 
Inspector  of  Upper  Egypt,  I  was  enabled  to  dwell  and 
do  my  work  in  these  congenial  surroundings.  I  have 
also  to  thank  him  for  the  unique  opportunities  which 
our  desert  journey,  from  the  Nile  to  the  Red  Sea, 
offered  ;  of  all  my  experiences  in  Egypt,  none  has 
given  me  more  pleasure  in  recalling. 

Haslemere,  1912. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I 

PACE 

CAIRO  REVISITED    ......  i 


CHAPTER  n 

RENEWAL  OF  MY  ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  MO- 
HAMMED BROWN  AND  SOME  REFLECTIONS 
ON  MATRIMONY  .  .  .  .  .11 

CHAPTER  in 

THE  MOSQUE  OF  MURISTAn  KALAUN,  MY  EX- 
PERIENCE WITH  THE  FAKfR,  AND  A  DIGRES- 
SION ON  THE  SUBJECT  OF  DERVISHES  .  .         22 

CHAPTER  IV 

THE    FESTIVAL   OF   THE    '  HASANEYN '    AND  THE 

STORY  OF  THE  PRINCESS  ZOHRA  .  .  .31 

CHAPTER  V 

OF    THE    OLD    AND    THE    NEW    CAIRO,  AND  OF  A 

VISIT  TO  THE  SHEYKH  AMMIN  SAHEIME  .         43 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 


CHAPTER  VI 

PACE 

MY  SECOND  VISIT  TO  THE   SHEYKH  AND  MY  EX- 
PERIENCES WITH  AN  UNFAITHFUL  SERVANT  57 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN  WHICH  I  GET  ANOTHER  SERVANT  AND  HUNT 
FOR  A  CROCODILE  ;  ALSO  A  CONTINUATION 
OF  THE  STORY  OF  PRINCESS  ZOHRA        .  .         67 


CHAPTER  VIII 
OF  A  CAIRO  CAFE  AND  OTHER  MATTERS     .  .         78 

CHAPTER  IX 
THE  COPTIC  CONVENTS  OF  WADI  NATRUN  .         90 

CHAPTER  X 
THE  MOSQUE  OF  ES-SALIH  TALAI  .104 

CHAPTER  XI 
THE  BLUE  MOSQUE  AND  KASR-ESH-SHEMA  .        116 

CHAPTER  XII 

THE   SPHINX,    AND   A   DISSERTATION  ON   TOMMY 

ATKINS     .....••       127 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XIII 

PACE 

THE     HAMSEEN,     THE      LAMP-SHOP,     AND     THE 

ACCESSION  OF  SAID  PASHA .  .  .136 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MOHAMMEDAN  FESTIVALS:  THE  HOLY  CARPET— 

THE  FAST  OF  RAMADAN  AND  THE  ASHURA    .        151 


CHAPTER  XV 

MORE  RELIGIOUS  OBSERVANCES,  SPRING'S  AWAKEN- 
ING, AND  THE  CAIRENE  HOUSE  OF  COUNT 
ZOGHEB  .  .  .  .  .  .  .170 


CHAPTER  XVI 

DER    EL-BAHRI,     AND     SOME    INCIDENTS    WHICH 

TOOK  PLACE  DURING  MY  STAY  THERE  178 


CHAPTER  XVII 
DER  EL-BAHRI  {continued)     .  .  .  -194 

CHAPTER  XVIH 
THE  CROSS  DESERT  JOURNEY  TO   KOSSEIR   .  206 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

CHAPTER  XIX 

PACE 

THE  VALLEY  OF  HAMMAMAt   .  .  .221 

CHAPTER  XX 
THE  WADI  FOWAKIYEH  AND   bIr    HAGI    SULIMAN       231 

CHAPTER  XXI 
KOSSEIR  .......       245 

CHAPTER  XXII 
EDFU  AND  THE  QUARRIES  OF  GEBEL  SILSILEH      .       258 

CHAPTER  XXIII 

MY    EXPERIENCES    AS    AN    INMATE    OF  A   NATIVE 

HOSPITAL  ......       270 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

THE  SPHINX  BY  MOONLIGHT     . 

WATER  MELON  SELLER    .... 

AN  ARAB  WEDDING  PROCESSION 

A  CHEAP  RIDE  ..... 

THE  KHAN  KHALIL,  CAIRO 

SUK  ES-SELAH,  CAIRO         .... 

ENTRANCE  TO  THE  HAREEM     . 

THE  TAKHTABOSH  .... 

MOSQUE  OF  MOHAMMED  BEY  . 

A  CAIRENE  CAF6     ..... 

THE  TOMB  OF  SHEYKH  ABD-EL-DEYM 

ARAB  SCHOOL  ..... 

THE  BLUE  MOSQUE  .... 

PERSIAN  ALMSHOUSES       .... 


PACE 

Frontispiece 
8 

i6 
24 

32 
.    48 

•    56 
.    64 

72 
80 


104 


1 12 


128 


PACE 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

THE  STORE  OF  NASSAN    .             .                          .  136 

RETURN  OF  THE  HOLY  CARPET           .             .  144 

A  FRUIT-STALL  AT  BULAK  152 

A  THEBAN  HOMESTEAD  .                          .  .168 

THE  JACARANDA     .             .             .             .             .  .176 

THE     BIRTH    COLONNADE    IN    THE    TEMPLE  OF 

HATSHEPSU        .             .             .             .             .  .184 

THE  HAIRDRESSER              .             .             .             .  .192 

A  MARKET  ON  THE  EDGE  OF  THE  DESERT  208 

THE  TOMBS  OF  THE  KHALIFS   .             .             .  .216 

THE  MOSQUE  AT  KOSSEIR           .             .  .232 

DOORWAY  IN  THE  TEMPLE  OF  ISIS     .             .  .240 

POTTERY  BAZAAR  IN  A  NILE  VILLAGE           .  264 

THE  VILLAGE  OF  MARG                             .             .  .27 


T 


CHAPTER    I 

CAIRO  REVISITED 

A  FTER  a  lapse  of  some  years,  I  returned  to  Cairo 
J^j^    to  attempt  once  again  to  paint  its  ancient  build- 
ings, as  well  as  the  picturesque  incidents  seen 
in  the   shadows   they  cast    or   bathed   in   light  against 
their  sunlit  walls. 

I  made  an  early  start  on  the  first  morning  after  my 
arrival,  partly  to  look  for  a  subject,  and  more  particularly 
to  see  whether  the  pictorial  side  of  the  old  quarters  of 
the  city  would  still  impress  me  as  it  did  on  my  first  visit. 
It  was  a  fateful  morning,  for  had  what  I  saw  failed 
to  stir  up  my  former  enthusiasm,  I  was  resolved  to  pack 
up  my  traps,  and  try  my  hand  in  Upper  Egypt. 

I  hurried  along  the  Mousky  as  fast  as  its  usual 
crowd  of  people  would  allow,  and  turned  down  the 
Khordagiyeh  to  see  if  an  old  favourite  subject  of  mine 
had  not  been  '  improved  away.' 

Needless  to  say,  it  was  a  brilliant  morning,  for  the 
occasional  grey  days  of  midwinter  were  still  a  long  way 
off.  Great  awnings  hung  across  the  street,  and  on  one 
side  the  shopmen  were  lowering  blinds  or  rigging 
up  matting,  in  anticipation  of  the  sun  which  would 
shortly  be  streaming  down  on  them.  Everything  still 
had  its  summer  look,  though  October  was  far  spent  ; — 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

and  Cairo,  let  me  say,  is  much  more  beautiRil  in  hot 
weather  than  during  the  comparatively  chill  days  of 
winter. 

The  particular  houses  I  had  gone  in  search  of  were 
happily  untouched  ;  but  had  they  been  restored  out  of 
all  shape  or  allowed  to  fall  down  for  want  of  repair,  I 
should  hardly  have  had  room  for  a  depressing  thought. 

From  the  crowd  of  country  folk  and  the  heavily 
laden  camels  and  donkeys,  it  was  evident  that  a  market 
was  being  held  in  the  open  space  in  front  of  the  Beit- 
el-Kadi.  Locomotion  was  difficult  till  the  Nahasseen 
or  coppersmith  street  was  reached,  for  here  the  road 
widens  out  at  the  Muristan.  This  handsome  building, 
together  with  the  mosques  of  Kalaun,  en-Nasir,  and  of 
Barkuk,  formed  a  magnificent  group,  massed  as  they 
then  were  in  a  luminous  shade.  It  was  a  meeting  of 
old  friends,  and  old  friends  looking  their  best.  The 
dark  awnings  stretched  across  the  road  gave  this  pile  of 
masonry  a  light  and  ethereal  look,  though  they  were 
dark  in  contrast  to  the  azure  above,  save  where  the  sun 
tipped  the  domes  and  a  face  of  the  minarets. 

The  crowd  allowed  but  little  time  for  contemplation ; 
I  had  to  move  with  it,  and  reaching  the  short  street 
which  leads  to  the  Beit-el-Kadi,  a  converging  stream  of 
people  carried  us  along  till  we  arrived  at  the  market 
square.  I  picked  my  way  through  the  heaps  of  fruit 
and  vegetables  which  littered  the  ground,  passed  behind 
a  group  of  camels,  and  worked  my  way  to  the  steps  of 
the  court-house,  which  gives  its  name  to  the  market. 
From  this  point  of  vantage  I  was  enabled  to  make  some 
rough  studies  of  the  animated  scene  before  me. 


CAIRO    REVISITED 

The  sun  had  now  risen  high  enough  to  flood  the 
larger  part  of  the  square  in  Hght.  Bits  of  matting,  sail- 
cloth, or  anything  which  can  cast  a  shadow,  were  rigged 
up  to  protect  the  more  perishable  goods,  and  the  early 
comers  had  taken  advantage  of  the  shade  of  the  acacia 
trees  at  the  further  end  of  the  market. 

The  general  impression  is  one  of  light,  colour,  noise 
and  movement.  The  detail  is  full  of  human  as  well 
as  pictorial  interest.  Various  combinations  of  colour 
— some  beautiRil,  some  inharmonious — leave  ample 
scope  to  the  painter  to  arrange  his  scheme.  A  pile  of 
oranges  and  lemons,  with  the  black  and  deep  purple 
dress  of  the  fellaha  saleswoman,  make  a  striking  note  in 
the  foreground  ;  the  stacks  of  pitchers  brought  down 
from  Balliana,  in  Upper  Egypt,  give  a  variety  in  buffs 
and  greys,  and  the  blue  garments  of  the  buyers  are 
sufficiently  faded  not  to  contrast  too  violently.  It  is  also 
a  great  study  of  types  and  characters.  The  noisy  Cairene 
is  chaffering  with  the  quieter  Shami  from  far  Damascus 
for  some  pomegranates  which  are  heaped  before  him ; 
the  Maghraby  hawks  a  bundle  of  yellow  slippers  ;  Jew 
and  Greek  are  trying  to  outdo  each  other  in  a  deal  over 
a  spavined  horse. 

Through  the  motley  crowd  passes  the  brightly 
garmented  lemonade-seller,  tinkling  his  brass  cups  ;  his 
rival,  who  retails  licorice-water,  seems  more  in  demand  ; 
one,  carrying  a  heavy  pitcher  with  a  long  brass  spout, 
invites  the  thirsty  ones  to  partake  of  the  charity  offered 
them  in  the  name  of  God.  '  Sebeel  Alhah  ya  atchan,' 
he  drones  out  at  stated  periods.  He  is  less  often  met 
at  markets  than  at  religious  festivals,  and  he  is  paid  by 

3 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

some  visitor  to  the  tomb  of  a  saint  to  distribute  the  water 
as  a  thank-offering. 

A  young  camel  about  to  be  slaughtered  is  being 
led  about  and  sold  piecemeal,  intending  purchasers 
chalking  on  the  hide  of  the  beast  the  joint  they  wish 
to  secure. 

The  cheap-jack,  with  his  usual  flow  of  language, 
tempts  the  fellaheen  to  buy  his  European  shoddy  ; 
Karakush,  the  Egyptian  Polichinelli,  is  here,  and  also 
the  quack  doctor. 

The  effect  is  now  rapidly  changing  as  Bihar's  ancient 
palace  ceases  to  cast  its  shadow  over  the  further  part  of 
the  market,  and  my  vantage-ground  becomes  untenable 
as  the  sun  creeps  round  to  the  steps  of  the  court-house. 
I  work  my  way  to  the  archway  at  the  eastern  side  of 
the  square,  and  find  another  picture  here  well  worth 
going  to  Cairo  to  paint,  for  from  this  point  I  get  a  view 
of  the  Muristan  and  the  domes  and  minarets  of  its 
adjacent  mosques,  now  in  the  full  noonday  sun.  A 
stately  background  to  the  busy  scene  before  me. 

The  studies  I  had  made  of  the  market,  though  far 
from  satisfying  me,  left  me  too  tired  to  do  more  than 
make  a  few  notes  and  a  promise  to  come  here  again  on 
a  future  occasion. 

It  is  a  relief,  after  the  glare  and  noise  of  a  similar 
subject,  to  turn  down  the  narrow  dark  lanes  which  are 
found  in  the  residential  parts  of  Old  Cairo.  The 
one  entered  from  the  archway  winds  through  the 
Hasaneyn  quarter  and  ends  at  the  eastern  entrance  of 
the  Khan  Khalil. 

These  lanes  where   the  old  houses  are  still  intact 

4 


CAIRO    REVISITED 

are  even  more  characteristic  of  Cairo  than  are  the 
busy  streets,  for  something  similar  to  the  latter  can  be 
seen  in  most  eastern  cities.  The  projecting  latticed 
windows,  which  relieve  the  plane  surfaces  of  the 
backs  of  the  houses,  are  a  distinct  feature  of  this  city. 
Known  generally  as  tntishrbiyeh^  they  were  originally 
small  bays  in  which  the  water-bottles  were  placed 
to  cool.  The  word  is  derived  from  the  root  of  the 
Arabic  shirib^  to  drink,  from  which  we  also  get  our 
word  sherbet. 

The  bays  were  gradually  enlarged  so  as  to  allow  two 
or  three  people  to  sit  in  them  and  see  up  and  down 
the  street  without  being  seen  themselves.  What  corre- 
sponds to  a  glass  pane  in  Europe  is  here  replaced  by  a 
wooden  grating.  Each  joint  is  turned,  and  so  arranged 
as  to  make  a  pretty  pattern.  This  grating  is  much 
closer  in  the  apartments  of  the  hareetn^  and  though  it 
freely  admits  the  air  and  a  sufficiency  of  light,  it  effectu- 
ally screens  the  inmates  from  those  outside. 

From  the  enlarged  bays  one  or  more  smaller  ones 
often  project  in  which  the  earthen  bottles  are  now 
placed.  There  are  also  small  windows  in  the  lower 
panels,  through  which  I  have  often  seen  things  hauled 
up  in  small  baskets  from  the  street.  Sellers  of  fruit  or 
sweetstuffs  are  often  met  in  these  lonely  lanes,  and 
a  stranger  might  wonder  where  they  expect  to  find 
custom.  Presently  a  little  grating  will  open  and  a  face 
will  nearly  fill  the  opening.  Should  the  stranger  have 
been  seen  through  the  lattice-work,  the  face  will  be 
partly  veiled  unless  it  be  that  of  a  child,  and  after  some 
bargaining  with  the  hawker,  a  small  basket  containing 

5 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

a  coin  will  be  lowered.  The  coin  having  been  care- 
fully examined,  the  purchased  article  is  placed  in  the 
basket  and  they  are  hauled  up  to  the  window.  '  Ma's 
salama,  ya  sitt,'  '  ya  bint,'  or  '  ya  Amma,'  according  to 
the  degree  of  the  purchaser,  is  usually  the  farewell 
salutation  of  the  hawker.  But  should  the  purchase 
not  prove  on  further  examination  to  be  up  to  expecta- 
tions, a  lively  altercation  is  sure  to  ensue,  and  voices 
from  unseen  parties  behind  the  grating  may  also  be  heard. 

It  is  sad  to  see  how  much  of  this  77iushrbiyeh  is 
disappearing  ;  it  is  seldom  now  repaired  and  is  often 
replaced  by  cheap  sashes  or  is  roughly  boarded  up. 
There  are  several  causes  for  this  :  it  is  expensive,  and 
the  owners  of  the  larger  houses  have  mostly  gone  to 
live  in  the  modern  quarters  and  have  let  out  their  old 
homes  in  tenements  to  the  poorer  people.  Much  also 
has  been  destroyed  by  fire.  The  houses  usually  project 
over  the  lane  as  each  story  is  reached,  so  that  the  upper 
windows  often  nearly  meet  the  ones  of  the  opposite 
houses.  It  is  easily  imagined  how  a  fire  will  spread 
with  so  inflammable  a  material  for  it  to  feed  on.  The 
cheap  imported  petroleum  lamps,  which  are  replacing 
the  earlier  form  of  lighting,  have  much  to  account  for. 
Many  of  the  best  examples  of  7ntishrbiyeh  have  been 
bought  up  by  dealers  to  be  made  into  screens  or  re-used 
in  the  modern  suburbs. 

As  seen  from  the  lane,  the  houses  have  a  gloomy 
appearance  ;  but  it  should  be  remembered  that  the 
Cairene  dwelling  was  not  built  to  make  an  outward  dis- 
play,— its  beauty  is  seen  from  its  inner  courts  or  garden. 
When  he  views  them  from  the  narrow  sunless  lane,  the 

6 


CAIRO    REVISITED 

visitor  wonders  how  people  can  live  in  such  unhealthy 
surroundings.  Should  he  be  fortunate  enough  to  have 
the  entrde  to  a  house  which  is  still  inhabited  by  a 
prosperous  owner,  he  will  probably  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  no  more  suitable  plan  could  have  been  adopted 
in  a  country  where  the  summer  lasts  for  three-quarters 
of  the  year. 

I  shall  attempt  to  describe  a  visit  to  a  beautiful 
dwelling  later  on  ;  at  present  let  us  wander  through  the 
Hasaneyn  quarter,  thankful  that  the  rays  of  the  sun  are 
so  carefully  excluded. 

Reaching  the  wider  thoroughfare,  where  stands  the 
mosque  which  gives  the  district  its  name,  the  difference 
in  the  temperature  is  immediately  felt.  We  carefully 
keep  to  the  shady  side  of  the  road  till  we  arrive  at  the 
entrance  of  the  Khan  Khalil. 

This  Khan,  more  commonly  called  the  Turkish 
Bazaar,  is  one  of  the  few  which  every  tourist  is  taken 
to  see ;  it  is  in  reality  a  series  of  bazaars,  the  most  con- 
spicuous being  that  of  the  metal  workers.  Passing 
through  a  massive  doorway  we  enter  a  lane,  roofed  in 
overhead  with  long  rafters  and  matting  ;  the  warm  light, 
which  filters  through  this,  harmonises  the  various- 
coloured  silks  and  stuffs  which  are  piled  up  in  every 
little  shop  or  hung  out  to  attract  a  customer.  Each 
shop  is  little  more  than  a  square  cupboard,  but  as 
carriages  do  not  enter  here  the  owners  have  been 
allowed  to  retain  the  mastaba^  or  raised  seat,  on  a  level 
with  their  floors  and  projecting  two  feet  or  more  into 
the  roadway.  This  was  characteristic  of  every  shop  in 
Cairo,  until  carriages  began  to  replace  the  litter  and  the 

7 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

ass  as  a  means  of  locomotion.  The  merchant  drops  his 
sHppers  as  he  enters  his  place  of  business,  while  the 
customer  can  sit  on  the  fnastaba  and  keep  his  slippered 
feet  in  the  street. 

An  old  acquaintance  recognises  me  and  invites  us 
to  sit  down  ;  he  claps  his  hands,  and  the  boy  from  the 
coffee  shop  runs  across  to  take  his  orders.  When  it  is 
decided  whether  we  shall  have  coffee  or  green  tea, 
cigarettes  are  produced  and  a  series  of  courteous  inquiries 
then  follow.  I  in  return  ask  after  his  health  and  that 
of  his  children,  but  am  not  sufficiently  intimate  to  allude 
to  his  wife.  '  Allah  be  praised,  all  are  well.'  I  ask 
how  his  business  is,  and  he  tells  me  that  it  is  Allah's  will 
that  things  are  not  what  they  used  to  be.  '  Large  rival 
stores  now  exist  in  the  modern  parts  of  Cairo  and  are 
injuring  the  trade  of  the  Khan  Khalil.'  He  might 
have  added  that  prices  are  more  fixed  in  these  new 
stores  and  that  visitors  have  not  the  time  to  spend  hours 
over  a  purchase.  He  asks  me  when  I  am  coming  to 
sit  in  his  shop,  again  to  paint  that  of  Seleem,  his  opposite 
neighbour.  He  calls  out  to  Seleem  and  asks  him  if  he 
has  forgotten  the  ghawaga  who  painted  him  and  his 
wares.  '  Ya  salaam  ! '  says  Seleem,  and  crosses  over  to 
join  in  the  conversation.  When  the  greetings  are  over 
it  is  time  to  begin  the  leave-taking,  and  with  a  promise 
to  come  again  and  possibly  bring  a  customer  we  con- 
tinue our  way. 

I  am  glad  to   find   that  both  men  still  retain  the 

kuftd?i  and  ample  turban,  and  have  not  adopted  trousers 

and  the  ugly  red  tarbouch^  as  most  of  the  metal  workers 

have  done. 

8' 


WATER  MELON  SELLER 


CAIRO    REVISITED 

Descending  some  steps  we  come  to  the  handsome 
gateway  built  by  Garkas  el-KhaHly  in  1400;  innumerable 
lamps,  copied  from  those  which  used  formerly  to 
adorn  the  mosques,  are  exposed  here  for  sale  ;  brass 
finger-bowls,  salvers  and  ewers  cover  the  counters,  and 
tall  damascened  lamp-stands  fill  up  every  available  place 
on  the  floor. 

The  original  colouring  of  the  gateway  seems  to 
have  worn  itself  down  to  making  a  quiet  and  harmonious 
background  to  this  sparkling  mass  of  metal  work. 

I  am  soon  recognised  by  the  owner  of  one  of  the 
stalls,  from  whose  shop  I  had  also  painted  a  part  of  this 
bazaar,  and  am  again  invited  to  sit  down  to  coffee  and 
a  cigarette.  As  some  seven  or  eight  seasons  had  passed 
since  my  last  visit  to  Cairo,  and  considering  the  thousands 
of  foreigners  who  must  have  passed  through  these  bazaars 
during  that  time,  it  is  astonishing  that  he  should  have 
remembered  my  face.  There  is,  however,  no  time  now 
to  accept  of  the  good  man's  hospitality,  but  '  In-shaa- 
lldh,'  I  shall  return  before  many  days. 

Each  turning  gives  us  a  fresh  scheme  of  colour  and 
the  interest  of  another  handicraft.  The  carpet  bazaar 
leads  out  of  that  of  the  metal  workers.  The  small 
cupboard-shaped  shop  is  here  replaced  by  one  or  two 
important  show-rooms,  and  here  and  there  a  beautiful 
old  Persian  rug  makes  one  regret  the  crude  colouring 
of  the  aniline-dyed  modern  ones  which  are  replacing 
them.  Be  the  colours  ever  so  glaring,  the  subdued 
warm  light  which  passes  through  the  awnings  makes 
them  part  of  one  harmonious  whole. 

A  mass  of  red  and  yellow  is  what  catches  our  eyes 
B  9 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

as  we  look  down  the  slipper  market,  at  a  right  angle 
from  the  carpet  bazaar.  Festoons  of  slippers  hang  from 
shop  to  shop,  they  are  piled  in  stacks  on  the  counters, 
and  large  skins,  both  red  and  yellow,  are  being  cut  up 
and  hammered  about  as  if  the  supply  was  not  yet  equal 
to  the  demand. 

We  have  them  on  our  right,  and  pass  through  a 
double  row  of  stalls  where  we  are  pestered  to  buy 
strings  of  beads,  amber  mouthpieces,  cut  and  uncut 
stones,  '  Nice  bangles  for  your  lady,'  besides  many  other 
things  we  are  equally  not  in  want  of  Here  we  take 
our  leave  of  the  Khan  Khalil,  and  I  also  of  the  imaginary 
reader  whom  I  have  attempted  to  conduct  through  it. 

I  am  fortunate  enough  to  find  an  aj-abeyeh^  the 
Cairene  cab,  and  can  ponder  over  my  morning  while 
returning  to  the  hotel. 

Yes,  Cairo  is  good  enough  for  a  second  visit,  and, 
please  God,  a  good  many  more.  My  second  impressions 
were  perhaps  pleasanter  than  my  first  ones,  for  I  had 
not  now  that  bewildering  sense  of  how  I  should  set  to 
work,  and  also  if  it  were  possible  to  give  anything  like 
a  pictorial  presentment  of  these  scenes.  The  physical 
inconveniences  of  working  in  crowded  streets  and 
amongst  a  strange  people  appalled  me  ;  but  I  did  not 
then  realise,  as  I  do  now,  how  much  a  tactful  guide  can 
do  to  make  this  work  a  possibility. 


CHAPTER    II 

RENEWAL  OF   MY   ACQUAINTANCE   WITH   MOHAMMED 
BROWN  AND  SOME  REFLECTIONS  ON  MATRIMONY 

NOW  the  first  thing  to  do  was  to  look  up  my 
former  servant,  Mohammed  el-Asmar,  now  a 
dragoman  known  as  Mohammed  Brown,  the 
surname  being  the  Enghsh  interpretation  of  Asmar.  I 
have  described  him  fully  in  Below  the  Cataracts^  a 
previous  book  I  have  written  when  Egypt  was  much 
newer  to  me  than  at  present. 

I  went  to  that  haunt  of  the  dragomans,  the  pavement 
outside  the  terrace  of  Shepheard's  hotel,  late  enough  to 
have  allowed  for  the  post-prandial  nap.  I  found  one 
or  two  hanging  about  on  the  chance  of  some  tourist 
who  might  be  taking  Cairo  on  his  way  home  from  yet 
hotter  climates. 

They  had  not  seen  Mohammed  lately  and  did  not 
know  to  what  part  of  Cairo  he  had  moved  ;  but  one  of 
them  knew  a  relation  of  his  and  promised  that  he  should 
be  made  to  know  that  I  was  in  Cairo. 

That  same  evening  Mohammed  was  awaiting  me  in 
the  hall  of  the  hotel. 

After  the  first  greetings  I  remarked  on  what  a  swell 
he  had  become,  and  asked  him  why  he  should  have  an 
English  covert-coat  over  his  becoming  oriental  dress,  on 
so  hot  an  evening  as  it  was.    Instead  of  the  old  red  slippers, 

1 1 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

he  wore  European  tanned-leather  boots,  and  the  turban 
was  replaced  by  the  hideous  tar b ouch.  He  had  forgotten 
my  dislike  for  this  half-and-half  get-up,  and  he  told  me 
it  was  now  quite  '  the  thing '  amongst  the  better-class 
dragomans. 

I  was  glad,  however,  to  find  that  the  seven  seasons 
during  which  he  had  been  preying  on  the  tourists  had 
not,  apart  from  these  changes  in  his  garments,  altered 
him  much  for  the  worse. 

'  Well,  how  is  the  baby  ? '  I  asked  him.  '  Oh,  he  is 
getting  a  big  boy  now.'  '  And  the  wife  ? '  I  ventured 
this  time.  A  rather  crestfallen  look  prepared  me  that 
something  was  wrong.  '  Which  wife,  sir,  do  you  mean  ?  ' 
'  You  must  be  doing  uncommonly  well  if  you  can  afford 
two  wives,'  I  said  ;  '  most  of  us  who  have  to  earn  our 
living  in  England  find  one  as  much  as  we  can  manage  ; 
besides,  Mohammed,  you  used  to  agree  with  me  that  it 
was  a  very  foolish  thing  for  any  one  to  have  more  than 
one.'  He  certainly  seemed  to  agree  with  me  now,  for  it 
was  evident  that  trouble  began  when  number  two  made 
her  appearance. 

'  It  came  about  like  this,'  he  went  on.  '  You 
remember  I  told  you  that  my  first  wife,  the  mother  of 
our  Hassan,  was  very  pretty,  and  that  I  loved  her  very 
much.'  '  Yes,  I  remember  she  was  very  pretty,  for  you 
know  I  caught  sight  of  her  that  day  my  wife  and  I 
dined  at  your  house.'  He  smiled,  but  shook  his  head, 
as  much  as  to  say  that  he,  a  Moslem,  ought  not  to  have 
allowed  his  wife  to  be  seen  unveiled.  As  I,  however, 
was  not  a  Moslem  myself,  he  tried  to  console  himself 
that  he  had  not  transgressed  Mohammedan  law. 

12 


REFLECTIONS    ON    MATRIMONY 

'  A  pretty  face,  sir,  she  still  has,  but  her  tongue  gets 
worse  and  worse.' 

I  asked  the  foolish  young  man  if  he  expected  to 
improve  her  tongue  by  introducing  her  to  a  second  wife. 
'  I  have  been  a  great  fool,'  was  his  mournful  reply;  and 
after  a  pause,  '  I  think  I  shall  have  to  divorce  her  ;  but 
I  love  her  very  much  in  spite  of  her  temper.' 

'  Well,  now,  about  number  two  ?  '  I  asked.  '  It  came 
about  like  this,'  he  began  again.  '  You  must  remember 
Ahmed  Abd-er-Rahman,  the  old  dragoman  that  used  to 
come  here.'  '  I  don't  remember  him,  but  no  matter,' 
'  Well,  I  asked  his  advice  about  curing  a  wife's  temper, 
but  got  little  encouragement  from  him.  The  few 
remedies  he  suggested,  and  which  I  tried,  only  made 
matters  worse. 

'One  day  he  said  to  me  :  "  Mohammed,  I  have  always 
loved  you  as  if  you  were  a  son  of  mine,  and  as  I  have 
still  an  unmarried  daughter,  it  would  add  to  my  happi- 
ness as  well  as  to  yours  if  you  became  my  son-in-law. 
I  shall  only  ask  a  small  dowry  of  you,  whereas  if  I  were 
to  marry  her  to  the  one-eyed  Mustapha,  he  could  and 
would  give  a  much  larger  one.  She  is  young  and 
beautiful,  and  has  the  sweetest  disposition  ;  and  while  I 
kept  you  waiting  in  the  hbsh  the  other  day,  it  was  but 
to  give  her  an  opportunity  of  gazing  on  you  through  the 
fmishrbiyeh.  You  can  divorce  your  Rasheeda  and  live 
happily  with  my  Fatimah." 

'  This  sounded  very  well,  and  I  tried  to  get  the  old 
man  to  fix  the  sum  I  should  have  to  pay  as  the  dowry. 
He  kept  telling  me  of  the  price  one-eyed  Mustapha  was 
prepared  to  pay  ;    but  I  wanted  to  know  nothing  about 

'3 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

Mustapha,  and  have  since  found  out  that  this  was  all  lies. 
After  many  days  he  agreed  to  content  himself  with  ten 
pounds,  and  I  paid  him  half  that  sum,  the  other  half,as  you 
know,  to  be  paid  when  the  marriage  had  taken  place. 

'  I  had  done  well  that  season,  and  spent  much  of 
my  earnings  on  the  wedding;  when  I  left  my  friends 
below  to  go  to  the  hareem^  I  gave  my  bride  a  handsome 
present  as  "  the  price  of  the  uncovering  of  the  face,"  and 
when  I  threw  back  the  shawl,  and  saw  her  for  the  first 
time,  I  nearly  fainted.' 

It  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  not  to  laugh,  but  the 
poor  fellow  seemed  so  overcome  in  recalling  his  bad 
bargain  that  I  tried  to  look  sympathetic. 

'  I  thought  of  divorcing  her  there  and  then,'  he  went 
on,  '  but  I  had  not  the  heart  to  pronounce  those  terrible 
words  on  the  day  of  the  poor  creature's  wedding.  She 
was  ugly  and  old — at  least  thirty — and  had  as  brown  a 
fe.ce  as  I  have.' 

After  a  pause  he  went  on.  *  Her  father — may 
Allah  blacken  his  face  ! — did  not  lie  as  regards  her 
temper  ;  but  even  the  best  of  tempers  could  not  with- 
stand the  jeering  and  scoffing  to  which  Rasheeda  used  to 
treat  her.  My  mother  used  to  take  her  part,  and  we 
had  more  rows  between  Rasheeda  and  my  mother. 
When  I  could  stand  it  no  longer,  I  went  with  two 
witnesses  to  the  Kadi's  court  and  had  her  written  a 
?iashizeh^  and  she  returned  to  her  own  people.  Fatimah 
tried  to  mother  our  little  Hassan,  but  she  could  not 
console  him.  He  got  ill,  and  I  was  afraid  we  might 
lose  him.  I  then  took  a  room  near  Saida  Zenab,  and 
fetched  Rasheeda  away  from  her  people,  and  she  and  the 


REFLECTIONS    ON    MATRIMONY 

child  are  now  living  there.  My  life  has  been  more 
peaceful  since  then,  but  the  cost  of  two  households 
makes  me  a  very  poor  man.  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Tyndale, 
that  though  I  did  very  well  last  season,  I  hardly  know 
where  to  turn  for  a  piastre.' 

It  would  be  two  months  or  more  before  the  next 
season  would  be  in  full  swing,  so  we  arranged  that  he 
would  accompany  me  during  that  time,  and  would 
procure  me  some  one  else  while  he  was  engaged  with 
the  tourists.  He  promised  to  be  in  good  time  the  next 
morning,  and  took  his  departure. 

Probably  nothing  has  tended  more  to  separate  the 
East  from  the  West  than  their  differing  views  as  to  the 
relation  of  the  sexes.  Such  education  as  there  is  has 
until  quite  recently  been  entirely  confined  to  the  sons 
of  the  more  well-to-do,  and  even  at  present  the  instances 
of  a  girl  being  taught  to  read  or  write  are  very  rare. 
It  therefore  follows  that  as  only  one  parent  has  had  any 
mental  training,  the  offspring  has  less  mental  capacity 
to  inherit  than  where  both  parents  will  have  had  some 
form  of  schooling.  The  religious  instruction  which 
forms  so  large  a  part  of  a  Moslem's  training  is  almost 
entirely  withheld  from  the  girls,  which  accounts  no 
doubt  for  the  erroneous  idea  held  by  Europeans  that 
Mohammedans  believe  women  to  have  no  souls.  Reli- 
gious text-books  give  pages  as  to  a  child's  duty  to  its 
father,  and  they  sum  up  in  a  couple  of  lines  the  duty  to 
the  mother.  Educated  Egyptians  will  often  complain 
that  their  wives  are  no  companions  to  them,  but  what 
can  they  expect  when  their  womenkind  are  brought  up 
in  a  manner  so  distinctly  inferior? 

15 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

Polygamy  is  less  common  than  is  generally  supposed, 
but  a  man  can  divorce  his  wife  so  easily  that  he  has 
not  the  necessity  of  keeping  more  than  one  at  a  time. 
It  is  true  that  a  father  will  hesitate  to  give  his  daughter 
to  a  man  who  has  often  used  the  divorce  court,  and 
that  he  will  also  advise  his  son  to  keep  to  one  wife  if 
he  possibly  can. 

A  young  doctor,  who  appeared  to  be  happily 
married,  told  me  of  the  advice  his  father  gave  him 
previous  to  the  wedding.  *  Don't  be  foolish  enough, 
O  my  son,  ever  to  take  a  second  wife  ;  for  if  you  do, 
trouble  is  sure  to  begin.  Should  you  tire  of  Zenab, 
get  her  another  dress  ;  women  are  all  much  the  same, 
it  is  the  clothes  which  make  the  difference.'  I  asked 
if  this  plan  had  succeeded.  '  Yes,  only  too  well,'  said 
my  friend,  '  for  she  is  continually  encouraging  me  to 
get  her  a  new  dress.'  He  also  told  me  that  previous 
to  his  wedding  he  had  not  even  seen  his  wife  veiled, 
though  they  were  brought  up  in  the  same  town.  His 
sisters  had  described  her  so  well  to  him  that  when  he 
saw  her  for  the  first  time,  she  was  very  much  like  what 
he  had  anticipated. 

I  have  described  more  fully  elsewhere  a  marriage 
to  which  my  wife  and  I  were  invited  as  guests,  and  as 
such  full  details  of  the  ceremonial  are  given  in  Lane's 
Modern  Egyptians  I  shall  not  dwell  on  it  here.  Lane's 
argument  to  those  who  severely  condemn  Islamic 
marriage  laws  is  this  :  '  As  Moses  allowed  God's  chosen 
people,  for  the  hardness  of  their  hearts,  to  put  away 
their  wives,  and  forbade  neither  polygamy  nor  con- 
cubinage,  he   who    believes    that   Moses   was    divinely 

i6 


AN   ARAB   WEDDINC,    I'ROCESSION 


REFLECTIONS    ON    MATRIMONY 

inspired  to  enact  the  best  laws  for  his  people,  must 
hold  the  permission  of  these  practices  to  be  less  injurious 
to  morality  than  their  prohibition,  among  a  people 
similar  to  the  ancient  Jews.'  This  sounds  fairly  plausible, 
but  we  must  not  forget  that  Mohammedans  accept 
Christ  as  a  prophet  as  well  as  Moses,  and  also  avow 
that  each  prophet  taught  them  something  higher  than 
the  preceding  one  had  done,  and  there  is  certainly  no 
licence  as  to  polygamy  or  concubinage  allowed  in  the 
teaching  of  our  Lord.  Their  last  prophet,  and  according 
to  them  their  greatest,  Mohammed,  had  overlooked  this, 
and  probably  only  codified  what  had  more  or  less 
become  a  common  practice  in  his  day. 

As  the  modern  Jews  now  hold  to  one  wife  just  as 
do  the  people  amongst  whom  they  live,  so  it  is  possible 
that  in  time  the  Moslems  may  also  modify  their  marriage 
customs.  Supply  and  demand  has  already  had  its 
effect,  for  with  the  restrictions  on  slavery,  concubinage 
has  of  necessity  lessened  and  respect  for  the  husband  of 
one  wife  is  increasing  amongst  the  better  educated 
classes. 

I  started  on  a  subject  on  the  following  morning,  of 
an  old  house  built  alongside  and  overhanging  an  entrance 
to  a  mosque.  A  little  coffee-shop  under  an  archway, 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  made  an  excellent  point 
of  vantage  from  which  I  could  do  my  work  without 
attracting  too  much  attention.  Mohammed,  who  accom- 
panied me,  made  arrangements  with  the  owner  of  the 
stall  for  my  accommodation,  and  sat  on  the  high  bench 
near  me,  so  as  to  keep  off  the  more  inquisitive.  An 
ideal  post  for  him,  for  he  could  smoke  a  ndrgeekh,  sip 

c  17 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

coffee,  and  chat  with  the  other  clients  as  much  as  he 
pleased.  He  would  brush  away  the  flies  with  one  end  of 
his  whisp,  and  poke  with  the  other  end  any  small  boy 
who  ventured  too  near  me.  '  If  one  comes  it  may  not 
matter,  but  if  one  stays  fifty  others  will  come  also,'  he 
would  say,  as  the  stick  of  the  whisp  and  a  boy's  head 
came  in  contact. 

It  was  also  in  the  interest  of  the  owner  of  the  coffee- 
shop, — as  Mohammed  was  careRil  to  explain  to  him, 
— to  make  things  comfortable  for  me,  as  I  should  spend 
many  mornings  here  if  I  were  not  molested  in  my  work. 
Besides  my  subject,  which  was  a  very  beautiful  one  in 
itself,  this  was  a  useful  perch  from  which  to  make  studies 
of  the  people  and  animals  which  passed.  It  was  in  the 
Nahasseen,  one  of  the  busiest  thoroughfares  of  Cairo, 
and  scarcely  an  hour  would  go  by  without  hearing  the 
zaghareet^  the  shrill  cries  of  joy  which  told  of  the 
approach  of  a  bridal  procession,  or  the  doleful  chorus, 
*  La  ilaha  illa-llah,'  would  prepare  one  for  the  passing  of 
a  ftineral. 

It  has  happened  that  the  zaghareet  was  not  always 
the  accompaniment  of  the  more  cheerful  procession,  for 
these  shrill  cries  of  joy  replace  those  of  lamentation  when 
a  we/ee,  a  person  of  great  sanctity,  is  carried  to  his  last 
resting-place.  The  idea  conveyed  is  that  the  joys  now 
awaiting  him  more  than  compensate  those  he  has  left 
behind  for  his  loss.  There  is  a  curious  superstition,  or 
maybe  some  other  cause  which  we  cannot  explain,  that 
if  these  cries  of  joy  cease  for  more  than  a  minute  the 
bearers  of  the  corpse  cannot  proceed.  It  is  also  main- 
tained that  a  wc/ee  is  able  to  direct  the  steps   of  his 

i8 


REFLECTIONS    ON    MATRIMONY 

bearers  to  a  particular  spot  where  he  may  wish  to  be 
buried.  Lane  tells  the  following  anecdote,  describing 
an  ingenious  mode  of  puzzling  a  dead  saint  of  this 
kind.  '  Some  men  were  lately  bearing  the  corpse  of 
a  nsoelee  to  a  tomb  prepared  for  it  in  the  great  cemetery 
on  the  north  of  the  metropolis  ;  but  on  arriving  at  the 
gate  called  Bab-en-Nasr,  which  leads  to  this  cemetery, 
they  found  themselves  unable  to  proceed  fiirther  from 
the  cause  above-mentioned.  "  It  seems,"  said  one  of  the 
bearers,  "  that  the  sheykh  is  determined  not  to  be  buried 
in  the  cemetery  of  Bab-en-Nasr  ;  and  what  shall  we 
do  ?  "  They  were  all  much  perplexed  ;  but  being  as 
obstinate  as  the  saint  himself,  they  did  not  immediately 
yield  to  his  caprice.  Retreating  a  few  paces,  and  then 
advancing  with  a  quick  step,  they  thought  by  such  an 
impetus  to  force  the  corpse  through  the  gateway;  but 
their  efforts  were  unsuccessful  ;  and  the  same  experi- 
ment they  repeated  in  vain  several  times.  They  then 
placed  the  bier  on  the  ground,  to  rest  and  consult  \  and 
one  of  them  beckoning  away  his  comrades  to  a  distance, 
beyond  the  hearing  of  the  dead  saint,  said  to  them, 
"  Let  us  take  up  the  bier  again,  and  turn  it  round  quickly 
several  times  till  the  sheykh  becomes  giddy  ;  he  then 
will  not  know  in  what  direction  we  are  going,  and  we 
may  take  him  easily  through  the  gate."  This  they  did  ; 
the  saint  was  puzzled,  as  they  expected,  and  quietly 
buried  in  the  place  he  had  striven  to  avoid.' 

I  witnessed  a  similar  thing  in  Japan,  a  year  or  two 
ago  ;  but  in  that  case  it  was  an  idol  which  showed  a 
similar  obstinacy.  It  was  at  the  '  Gion  Matsuri,'  which 
annually   takes    place   at  Kyoto,  when  the   Shinto    god 

'9 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

Susa-no-o  is  carried  to  his  O  Tabisho — that  is,  his 
sojourn  in  the  country  with  his  goddess. 

No  sooner  had  the  god  been  placed  on  his  portable 
throne  than  the  wildest  excitement  was  manifested  by 
his  bearers  ;  some  wished  to  carry  him  one  way  and 
some  another,  while  others  seemed  rooted  to  the  ground. 
A  Japanese  gentleman,  who  was  with  me,  explained  that 
until  all  the  bearers  felt  drawn  to  pull  one  way,  it  was  not 
known  by  which  route  the  god  had  decided  to  go. 

It  is  singular  that  a  similar  superstition  should  obtain 
with  people  differing  as  much  as  the  Egyptians  do  to 
the  Japanese. 

The  constant  funerals  which  passed  between  me  and 
my  subject  seemed  little  heeded  by  Mohammed  and  the 
other  frequenters  of  the  cafe,  except  when  the  chorus 
mentioned  the  name  of  the  prophet,  some  would 
murmur,  '  God  bless  and  save  him  ' — '  Salla-lldhu-'aleyhi 
wasellem.' 

The  bridal  procession,  on  the  contrary,  seemed  to 
have  a  very  depressing  effect  on  my  man,  and  he  would 
hardly  cheer  up  till  a  distant  wail  suggested  another 
funeral. 

On  one  occasion  I  recognised  the  camels  with  the 
magnificent  trappings  used  when  the  holy  carpet  is 
conveyed  to  Mecca  ;  they  were  doing  duty  as  a 
kind  of  vanguard  to  a  bride  who  followed  in  a  litter 
swung  between  two  other  camels.  It  was  a  most 
picturesque  sight,  and  one  to  take  as  many  notes  of  as 
possible  for  reference  to  in  a  jfuture  picture.  Fortunately 
the  progress  of  the  procession  is  slow,  the  traffic  of  the 
street  compelling  it   frequently  to  stop.      This   would 

20 


REFLECTIONS    ON    MATRIMONY 

enable  me  to  get  ahead  of  it  and  jot  down  some  of  the 
arrangements  of  colour.  The  heavy  gold  and  crimson 
trappings  of  one  camel,  a  combination  of  green  and 
gold  on  a  second,  while  the  gold  brocade  of  a  third  was 
in  a  purple  setting ;  all  this  in  a  blaze  of  sunshine,  yet 
subdued  compared  to  the  light  caught  by  the  brass 
kettle-drums.  The  background  in  some  places,  too 
cut  up  in  violent  patches  of  light  and  shade  by  the 
awnings  over  the  shops  or  too  intricate  with  the  drawing 
of  a  Saracenic  mosque  entrance,  filled  me  with  confusion 
as  to  how  I  could  ever  treat  such  a  subject. 

When  the  broad  plain  surfaces  of  Barkuk's  and 
Kalaun's  shrines  made  a  setting  to  this  gorgeous  pro- 
cession, I  felt  that  my  task  had  become  more  hopeful. 

The  number  of  facts  I  had  to  crowd  into  my  memory 
in  a  half-hour  or  so,  I  found  more  exhausting  than  a 
long  morning's  work  on  a  subject  such  as  the  one  I  had 
left  to  pursue  this  one.  To  return  to  the  little  cafe 
where  I  had  left  Mohammed  in  charge  of  my  painting 
materials,  pack  up  my  traps  and  go  back  to  the  hotel, 
was  about  as  much  as  I  was  fit  for  during  the  rest  of 
that  morning. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE  MOSQUE  OF  MURISTAN  KALaOn,  MY  EXPERI- 
ENCE WITH  THE  FAKIR,  AND  A  DIGRESSION 
ON  THE  SUBJECT  OF  DERVISHES 

PASSING  once  more  the  mosque  of  Kalaun,  I  was 
attracted  to  one  of  its  windows ;  not  on  account 
of  its  particular  interest  as  such,  but  of  its 
possibilities  as  a  point  of  vantage  from  which  I  might 
paint  the  opposite  side  of  the  road,  and,  unmolested, 
make  studies  of  the  interesting  incidents  which  take 
place  in  it. 

There  was  still  time  to  go  to  the  Wakfs  ministry 
before  it  closed  for  the  midday  '  siesta.'  '  El  Wakfs ' 
is  the  name  of  what  we  might  term  the  Board  of 
Religious  Endowments.  It  is  here  where  artists  must 
apply  for  a  pass  to  allow  them  to  paint  inside  the 
mosques. 

I  fortunately  found  Herz  Bey,  the  architect  of  the 
Wakfs,  and  he  very  kindly  gave  me  what  I  required. 

Apart  from  the  window  of  Kalaun's  mosque  which 
would  be  of  great  use  to  me,  its  interior  is  one  of  the 
finest  and  most  ornate  in  the  whole  of  Cairo.  I  had 
found  several  subjects  there  in  former  years,  and  I  looked 
forward  to  finding  a  pleasant  asylum  in  which  I  could 
restRilly  do  some  work  after  the  fatigue  of  some  days  of 
street  painting. 

22 


THE  MOSQUE  OF   MURISTAN   KALAUN 

The  mosque  was  falling  into  a  ruinous  state  when 
I  had  last  entered  it.  Originally  most  gorgeous,  its 
colouring  had  then  been  softened  down  by  more  than 
six  centuries  since  en-Nasir  completed  the  dome  which 
covers  the  tomb  of  his  father. 

I  also  looked  forward  to  a  cooler  spot  than  my 
cafe,  for  Cairo  has  far  from  cooled  down  during  the 
first  days  of  November.  Though  the  thermometer  may 
not  register  so  high  as  in  June,  the  damp  heat  during 
the  high  Nile  is  more  felt  than  the  greater,  but  dryer, 
temperature  of  early  summer. 

I  was  prepared  not  to  find  the  mosque  as  paintable 
as  in  the  earlier  days, 

'  Before  Decay's  effacing  fingers 
Have  swept  the  lines  where  beauty  lingers  '  ; 

yet  I  was  hardly  prepared  to  find  it  to  all  appearance  a 
brand  new  building.  It  had  been  admirably  restored, 
and  restoration  was  necessary,  I  have  no  doubt,  to 
prevent  its  falling  into  complete  ruin,  as  so  many  other 
monuments  have  done.  But,  alas,  its  poetry  was  gone. 
Nor  is  this  likely  to  return  so  long  as  it  is  kept  as  a 
show-place  merely,  and  only  visited  by  the  tourist  or 
student  of  Saracenic  architecture.  The  hundred  and 
one  signs  which  suggested  the  worshippers  who  had 
gathered  here  during  the  six  bygone  centuries  were  all 
swept  away  ;  the  worn  praying  mats  were  gone,  and 
any  of  the  movable  furniture  which  is  not  now  shelved 
and  labelled  in  a  museum  may  have  found  its  way  to 
some  dealer's  shop, — the  place  for  which  these  things 
were  designed  knows  them  no  more. 

I  started  a  large  drawing,  for  in  spite  of  all  it  is  a 

23 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

beautiful  building,  and  looks  now  in  all  probability- 
very  much  as  it  looked  when  Nasir's  work-people  left 
it.  I  worked  hard  at  this  drawing  ;  spent  whole 
mornings  getting  the  intricate  arabesque  patterns  into 
perspective  and  their  relative  tones  ;  but  the  longer  I 
worked  the  more  my  drawing  became  the  lifeless 
perspective  elevation  plate  of  some  book  on  architecture. 

Some  day,  when  my  last  impressions  of  the  place 
may  fade  and  I  may  remember  more  clearly  the  shrine 
retaining  its  human  associations,  I  may  possibly  be 
able  to  take  up  this  drawing  again  and  infuse  some  life 
into  it. 

I  did  better  from  the  window  overlooking  the 
Nahasseen. 

The  ruinous  domed  mosque — built  before  the  one 
of  Kalaun — to  shelter  the  remains  of  Ayyub  es-Salih, 
has  been  heavily  dealt  with  by  '  decay's  effacing  fingers.' 
Copper-smiths  have  rigged  up  their  stalls  against  its 
crumbling  walls,  and  the  mosque  school  still  hangs 
together  sufficiently  to  be  used  by  the  youths  repeating 
their  Koran.  This  and  an  ever-moving  crowd  of 
people  had  at  all  events  a  soul  left  in  it. 

My  regrets  at  having  lost  so  much  time  in  producing 
an  artistic  failure  decreased  in  proportion  as  the  use  I 
was  able  to  make  of  this  window  increased. 

Facing  immediately  the  street  leading  to  the  Beit- 
el-Kadi,  I  was  able  to  take  notes,  on  a  market  day,  of 
all  the  incidents  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter,  and 
at  ordinary  times  there  would  always  be  more  than 
enough  subject-matter  to  furnish  the  foreground  of  the 
couple  of  drawings  I  made  from  here. 

24 


A  CHEAP    RIDE 


AN    EXPERIENCE    WITH    A    FAKIR 

The  mosque  being  now  a  '  sight '  more  than  a 
place  of  worship,  a  fee  is  charged  for  admittance  ; 
and  even  this  matter,  which  I  was  regretting  before  now, 
proved  an  advantage  to  me,  for  the  attentions  of  the 
inquisitive  are  usually  more  marked  while  making  figure 
studies  than  while  painting  some  inanimate  subject. 

Small  boys  would  occasionally  crawl  on  to  the  sill 
and  hang  on  to  the  grating  to  try  and  see  what  I  was 
doing,  till  my  man,  whom  I  kept  outside,  would  send 
them  away. 

A  ragged  fakir  chose  the  bit  of  pavement  just 
below  my  window  to  do  a  little  basking  in  the  sun. 
Mohammed  whispered  to  me,  through  the  grating, 
that  he  was  a  great  saint,  and  squatted  next  to  him  in 
the  fiill  odour  of  his  sanctity.  A  current  of  air  would 
now  and  again  bring  some  of  this  odour  my  way  ; 
but  I  restrained  Mohammed  from  disturbing  the  fakir  in 
his  sleep.  Others  were  not  so  considerate,  for,  in  spite 
of  the  old  man's  saintly  repute,  a  number  of  young 
hooligans  soon  surrounded  him,  and  comments  on  his 
appearance  provoked  such  laughter  as  to  wake  him  up. 

The  fakir  now  seemed  as  one  possessed  of  a  devil  ; 
he  laid  about  with  his  staff  and  cursed  his  tormentors 
with  a  fluency  which  only  a  long  practice,  during  his 
unregenerate  days,  could  have  given  him.  A  young 
woman  at  a  safe  distance  called  out  to  him  that  the 
ghawaga^  that  is  I,  was  sketching  him,  whereupon  he 
turned  round  and  directed  the  flow  of  bad  language  in 
my  direction.  The  grating  was  a  protection  from  the 
old  fellow's  staff,  and  an  unused-up  lot  of  curses  soon 
fell  on  the  head  of  Mohammed,  who  moved  him  off. 

D  25 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

Too  much  attention  having  been  drawn  to  my 
window,  I  retired  with  my  materials  within  the  shades 
of  the  mosque  interior. 

I  made  inquiries  about  the  old  man.  The  term, 
fakir,  is  used  in  Egypt  to  denote  a  wandering  dervish,  and 
is  also  applied  to  any  poor  beggar.  His  rags  were  not 
simply  the  torn  garments  of  a  poor  man,  but  a  carefiilly 
made  coat  of  many  patches  and  of  variously  coloured 
stuffs,  known  as  a  '  dilk.'  Shreds  of  coloured  cloth 
were  also  fastened  to  the  end  of  his  staff.  He  wore  no 
turban,  and  had  supplemented  his  own  hair  with  what  I 
believe  ladies  call  '  a  front '  made  from  a  horse's  tail. 

I  was  told  that  he  belonged  to  the  Rifaiyeh  order 
of  dervishes,  and  was  famous  in  his  day  for  being  able 
to  pass  swords  through  his  body  without  leaving  a 
wound  ;  he  would  also  charm  serpents  and  scorpions 
away  from  a  house,  eat  live  coals  and  chew  glass. 

As  I  have  seen  many  appear  to  do  these  wonders 
without  necessarily  being  considered  very  holy  men, 
there  remained  a  more  potent  reason  for  his  reputed 
sanctity.  I  tapped  my  forehead  once  or  twice,  suggesting 
that  an  excess  of  miracles  must  have  made  him  mad. 
'  His  mind  is  in  heaven  and  only  his  body  remains  on 
earth,'  was  the  answer  to  my  suggested  question. 

A  superstitious  awe  for  persons  whose  intellect  is 
affected  obtains  all  over  the  Mohammedan  world — the 
Cairo  hooligan  being  apparently  the  exception. 

The  great  majority  of  dervishes  are  men  of  some 
trade  or  another  and  take  part  in  a  ztkr  during  the 
religious  festivals ;  a  few  lead  a  tramp's  life  and  beg  their 
way  from  town  to  town  where  one  of  these  festivals 

26 


A    DIGRESSION    ON    DERVISHES 

may  be  taking  place;  while  those  who  are  mentally 
afflicted  without  being  actually  dangerous  can  generally 
find  the  wherewithal  to  live  in  the  district  to  which 
they  belong.  The  latter  are  now  rarely  met  with  in 
the  European  parts  of  Cairo,  and  as  they  seem  generally 
bereft  of  all  sense  of  decency,  the  police  may  have 
something  to  say  in  the  matter. 

I  attended  a  zikr  during  my  first  visit  to  Egypt, 
when  an  evening  with  the  Howling  or  Dancing  dervishes 
was  still  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  '  sights.'  These 
were  often  got  up  by  the  dragomans  as  an  entertainment 
for  the  tourists.  H.  H.  the  Khedive  has  since  forbidden 
these  shows  as  liable  to  bring  Islamism  into  disrepute. 
Some  wit  remarked  of  the  dragomans,  that  they  believed 
in  Mohammed  and  his  profits.  The  dervishes  (or 
darweesh,  as  they  are  called  in  Egypt)  were  genuine 
ones,  and  argued  that  their  religious  exercises  might  be 
just  as  acceptable  even  if  they  resulted  in  some  profit 
in  the  shape  of  a  '  baksheesh '  from  the  unbelievers. 

The  first  part  of  the  performance  was  the  same  as 
may  be  seen  any  evening,  in  any  village,  during  the 
month  of  Ramadan. 

About  a  dozen  men  sat  in  a  double  row  facing 
each  other,  and,  taking  their  time  from  a  leader,  began 
by  slowly  repeating  the  first  words  of  the  Moslem's 
confession  of  faith  :  '  La  ilaha  illa-llah,'  which  they 
accompanied  with  a  swaying  of  their  bodies  backwards 
and  forwards.  Gradually  they  would  increase  the 
speed  of  the  repetition  and  the  movements,  always 
taking  their  time  from  the  leader.  This  got  faster  and 
faster  till  their  chief  shouted  '  Allah  !  '      Then,  repeating 

27 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

this  one  word,  the  swaying  of  their  bodies  became  so  rapid 
that  one  or  two  fell  down  exhausted.  The  remainder 
kept  it  up  as  long  as  their  physical  endurance  would 
allow  ;  their  mouths  foaming,  their  faces  livid,  and  a 
mad  look  in  their  eyes.  Presently  more  would  fall 
down,  some  lying  still,  and  others  to  all  appearance  in 
their  death  agony.  The  cry  of  '  Allah  '  finally  ceased 
when  the  leader  fell  forward,  and,  saving  a  gasp  or  a 
gurgle,  all  was  still. 

Some  of  us  were  preparing  to  leave  when  a  sign 
from  the  conductor  of  our  party  kept  us  in  our  seats. 

These  bodies  stretched  on  the  floor — to  all  appear- 
ance dead  or  dying — looked  ghastly  in  the  light  of  the 
flickering  torches. 

We  sat  on  some  time  wondering  what  the  next 
move  would  be.  A  heavy  breathing  with  alternate 
choking  on  the  part  of  one  of  the  performers  directed 
our  attention  his  way.  After  making  several  attempts 
to  rise,  he  succeeded  in  getting  into  a  sitting  posture 
and  stared  vacantly  at  us.  When  he  seemed  conscious  of 
where  he  was  and  what  he  was  doing,  he  rose  rapidly  to 
his  feet  and  spun  round  and  round  for  several  minutes ;  he 
next  seized  hold  of  a  torch,  continued  his  gyrations,  and 
without  stopping  held  the  lighted  torch  under  his  one 
garment,  allowing  the  flames  to  pass  all  over  his  body. 
It  reminded  me  horribly  of  the  straw  fires  with  which 
peasants  are  wont  to  burn  the  bristles  off"  a  stuck  pig. 

A  foreign  princess  who  was  of  our  party,  and  on 

whose  behalf  this    zi^r   had    been   arranged,   had  now 

seen    as  much   as   she   could    stand,  and    she   and   her 

immediate  suite  went  away. 

28 


A    DIGRESSION    ON    DERVISHES 

The  performers  seemed  quite  unconscious  of  this 
disturbance  ;  the  man  kept  on  spinning  round,  toasting 
his  chest  and  then  his  back  till  he  let  fall  the  torch 
and  sank  down  on  the  matting. 

Another  had  in  the  meanwhile  come  to  life  again 
and  begun  to  spin  like  a  teetotum.  He  drew  two 
knives  from  his  girdle  and,  while  continuing  his  motion, 
rested  the  points  on  his  lower  eyelids  ;  he  next 
hacked  his  face  and  forehead,  and  when  the  blood- 
letting had  sufficiently  cooled  his  frenzy  he  joined  his 
companions  on  the  floor. 

The  low  muttered  '  Allah '  from  the  other  dervishes 
showed  that  they  were  awakening  from  the  kind  of 
cataleptic  sleep  they  had  fallen  into. 

A  third  one  now  arose  and  startled  one  of  the 
spectators  by  rushing  forward  and  seizing  a  tumbler 
near  him  ;  he  bit  off  pieces  of  glass  and  crunched  them 
in  his  teeth.  He  looked  absolutely  loathsome  as  he 
appeared  to  swallow  the  glass,  with  the  blood  streaming 
from  his  mouth.  His  craving  for  glass  was  not  satisfied 
yet.  The  glass  of  an  oil  lamp  near  me  caught  his  eye, 
and  catching  hold  of  it,  hot  as  it  was,  he  chewed  it 
up  as  a  half-starved  dog  would  chew  a  bone. 

I  had  now  had  more  than  enough,  and  slipped 
quietly  off  before  a  fourth  began  his  '  turn.' 

Mohammed  followed  me  out.  He  was  not  very 
communicative  about  the  unnatural  orgy  we  had  assisted 
at,  and  as  he  is  a  good  Moslem,  I  fancy  he  seemed 
ashamed  of  the  performance. 

While  walking  down  the  Mousky  on  the  following 

morning,  a  cabman  seated  on  the  box  of  his  arabeyeh 

29 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

greeted  Mohammed  with  an  unusually  cheery  '  Salaam 
Alekum.'  The  answer,  '  Alckum  es-Salaam,  ya  ibne 
Kelb,'  with  an  accompanying  shake  of  the  hnger,  was 
surprising  ;  that  is,  '  The  peace  be  with  you,  O  son  of 
a  dog.'  The  cabby  laughed  and  drove  on.  Moham- 
med looked  rather  consciously  at  me,  and  seeing  that 
I  looked  puzzled,  he  asked  me  if  I  did  not  recall  that 
cabman's  face.  Yes,  I  had  seen  him  before,  but  when 
or  where  I  could  not  say.  '  Why,  he  is  the  darweesh 
who  ate  all  that  broken  glass  last  night.' 

True  enough,  it  was  the  very  man !  But  no  premi(;re 
danseuse  seen  with  her  tinsel  and  spangles  behind  the 
footlights,  and  afterwards  met  in  everyday  garb,  could 
have  shown  as  great  a  contrast  as  did  this  cabby  and 
the  wild  dervish  of  the  previous  night.  He  was 
dressed  in  European  clothes,  except  for  the  red  tar- 
bouch,  and  he  seemed  none  the  worse  for  his  last  night's 
glass  supper. 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE  FESTIVAL  OF  THE    'HASANEYN'    AND  THE  STORY 
OF  THE  PRINCESS  ZOHRA 

THE  promise  I  had  made  to  my  acquaintances  in 
the  Khan  KhaHl,  to  come  again,  was  soon 
fulfilled.  This  great  bazaar  attracts  me  most 
when  the  season  in  the  modern  quarters  of  Cairo  is 
over  or  not  begun.  I  have  painted  so  many  of  its  shops 
and  corners,  that  I  and  my  faithful  servant  must  be  as 
familiar  to  the  stall-holders  as  they  are  to  us. 

An  opportunity  occurred  to  see  it  by  night,  for, 
except  on  the  great  festival  of  the  'Hasaneyn,'  the  gates 
of  the  Khan  are  closed  before  the  evening  prayer. 

The  mosque  of  Hoseyn  stands  opposite  the  east 
entrance,  and  it  is  the  one  most  used  by  the  shop- 
keepers of  these  bazaars. 

It  is  a  spacious  building,  but  of  little  interest  from 
an  architectural  point  of  view.  Its  great  popularity  is 
one  cause  of  this,  for  money  could  always  be  found  to 
restore  it,  and  unhappily  a  great  wave  of  enthusiasm  for 
the  shrine  of  the  martyred  sons  of  Ali  obtained  during 
a  late  period  of  debased  Saracenic  architecture,  during 
which  the  mosque  was  almost  entirely  rebuilt. 

Before  the  Napoleonic  invasion  of  Egypt  no 
Christian  or  jew  dared  pass  down  the  street  in  which  it 
stands,  and  even  at   the   present   day,  when  foreigners 

3^ 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

may  visit  the  other  mosques  of  Cairo,  while  the  services 
are  not  being  held,  the  actual  shrine  where  the  head  of 
Hoseyn  lies  may  only  be  entered  by  the  faithRil. 

On  the  night  in  question  it  was  possible  to  see  as 
much  as  I  wanted,  as  the  doors  stood  wide  open,  and 
the  interior  was  lighted  with  thousands  of  lamps.  The 
whole  street  was  roofed  over  with  particoloured  tent- 
cloth,  which  caught  the  light  of  the  torches  of  the 
dervishes  who  filed  in  at  the  central  doorway. 

The  noise  of  the  cymbals,  drums,  and  hautboys  of 
the  musicians  mingled  with  the  babel  of  voices  which 
came  from  the  mosque.  Many  inside  were  performing 
the  zikr^  and  others  were  marching  round  and  reciting 
the  Fathah,  or  a  form  of  blessing  on  the  prophet. 

Every  house  was  profusely  decorated  with  flags, 
lamps,  and  festoons  of  coloured  glass  globes.  The  cafes 
were  overflowing  with  customers,  and  high  benches  on 
the  pavements  outside  were  all  occupied  with  listeners 
to  the  professional  story-tellers  who  related  the  deeds 
of  Hasan  and  Hoseyn. 

It  seemed  strange  to  hear  the  names  of  these  two 
brothers  from  the  lips  of  so  many  orthodox  Moslems, 
for  at  a  previous  festival  in  their  honour,  which  I 
witnessed,  only  such  as  were  under  police  protection 
dared  shout  '  Hasan,  Hoseyn.'  It  was  when  the  heretic 
Sheeas,  mostly  Persians,  paraded  the  streets  of  Cairo — ^a 
gruesome  sight  it  was — but  at  present  we  will  confine 
ourselves  to  the  doings  of  the  orthodox  Sunnees,  to 
which  sect  the  bulk  of  the  Egyptians  belong. 

*  Though  those  dogs  of  Sheeas,'  an  Egyptian  will 
tell  you,  '  almost  make  gods  of  Hoseyn  and  also  of  his 

32 


THE  KHAN  KHALIL,  CAIRO 


THE    FESTIVAL    OF   THE    'HASANEYN' 

father  Ali,  is  that  a  reason  why  we  should  fail  to  honour 
his  birthday  ?  Was  he  not,  after  all,  a  grandson  of  the 
Prophet  ? '  It  is  fortunate,  however,  that  both  sects  do 
not  keep  the  festival  on  the  same  day,  or  it  would  be 
more  than  the  police  could  do  to  prevent  them  coming 
to  blows. 

How  different  the  Khan  looked,  lighted  up  as  it 
then  was  by  hundreds  of  lamps  in  and  around  the  shops  ! 
In  places  brilliantly  coloured  tent-cloths  stretched  across 
the  lanes,  and  on  every  mastaba  the  store-keeper  was 
entertaining  his  friends.  The  dark  intervals  were  the 
shops  kept  by  Christians  or  Jews,  which  were  care- 
fully shuttered  up  for  the  night. 

The  silk  merchant,  Mustapha,  and  his  opposite 
neighbour  Seleem  were  both  here,  and  I  was  not  sorry 
to  accept  the  former's  kindly  invitation  to  sit  down. 
Being  unused  to  smoking  the  nargeeleh  or  the  almost 
obsolete  shibook  which  were  offered  me,  he  procured 
some  cigarettes  and  clapped  his  hands  to  summon  the 
boy  from  the  coffee-stall.  He  regretted  that  the 
moo  led  of  the  Hasaneyn  was  not  now  as  in  former 
days,  when  hardly  a  shop  in  the  whole  Khan  was  not 
lighted  up  like  as  his  and  Seleem's.  'Jews,  Nazarenes, 
Parsees,  and  what  not  else,  were  invading  the  stalls  held 
by  the  faithfril,'  he  said,  pointing  to  the  shutters  of 
those  unenlightened  people. 

'  Allahu  !  Allahu  ! '  from  the  street  outside  was 
clearly  heard  during  the  pauses  in  the  conversation. 

'  Was  it  possible  now  for  a  Nazarene  to  enter  the 
mosque  and  see  the  tomb  where  Hoseyn's  head  lay 
buried  ? '    I  asked,  and  also   showed  him  the  ticket   I 

^  33 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

had,  allowing  me  to  paint  in  the  mosques  of  Cairo. 
He  read  the  instructions,  and  pointed  out  a  line  which 
made  an  exception  for  that  particular  shrine  as  well  as 
for  two  others.  The  talk  then  drifted  to  an  instance 
when  one  of  my  countrymen,  disguised  as  a  Moslem, 
was  accidentally  discovered  near  the  tomb  while  the 
fnooled  was  being  held  \  of  how  he  was  nearly  killed 
by  the  infuriated  mob  and  saved  by  the  intervention  of 
the  princess  Zohra. 

The  story  is  so  full  of  dramatic  interest  that,  instead 
of  giving  the  garbled  versions  which  obtain  in  the 
bazaars,  I  will  try  to  tell  it  as  Max  Eyth  tells  it  in 
'  Hi?ite?-  Pfiug  U7id  Schraubstock'  Eyth  was  in  Egypt 
during  the  lifetime  of  the  princess  and  heard  all  the 
details  from  a  former  member  of  her  household. 

Zohra  was  the  youngest  living  daughter  of 
Mohammed  AH,  Egypt's  first  viceroy.  She  was  the 
idol  of  her  father  and  partook  of  his  character  more 
than  did  any  of  her  numerous  brothers  and  sisters. 
Her  childhood  was  spent  in  the  same  hareem  as  that  of 
her  nephew  Abbas,  who  was  the  same  age  as  herself. 
Self-willed  children  as  they  both  were,  quarrels  were 
of  frequent  occurrence.  When  Abbas  would  taunt 
her  that  she  was  only  a  little  girl,  she  would  remind 
him  that  she  was  the  great  Ali's  daughter,  whereas  he 
was  only  the  son  of  her  brother  Tussun.  Words 
ending  in  blows  one  day,  Abbas  was  packed  off  to 
a  school  and  a  governess  was  found  for  the  young 
princess. 

Wishing  to  have  her  taught  both  English  and 
French,   they  engaged   the    services   of  a  young   Irish 

34 


THE    STORY   OF   THE    PRINCESS    ZOHRA 

lady,  a  Miss  O'Donald,  who  had  been  brought  up  in 
Paris  and  spoke  French  as  well  as  her  own  language. 

Western  ladies  had  hitherto  been  little  seen  in 
Egyptian  hareems  ;  the  Mohammedan  ladies  disap- 
proved of  the  greater  liberty  enjoyed  by  the  newcomer 
and  soon  grew  jealous  of  the  great  influence  the 
governess  held  over  her  pupil. 

As  Zohra  grew  older,  Miss  O'Donald  became  more 
of  a  companion  than  a  teacher,  and  she  remained  in 
the  viceroy's  service  for  eight  years.  Abbas  had  in  the 
meantime  left  his  school  and  had  a  hareem  of  his  own 
in  his  grandfather's  palace.  He  never  forgave  Zohra 
for  having  been  the  cause  of  his  banishment,  and 
awaited  his  time  to  wreak  his  vengeance. 

Mohammed  Ali  had  not  yet  found  a  husband  for 
his  daughter  ;  he  aspired  to  marrying  her  to  a  Sultan 
or  to  a  son  of  the  Khalif  himself  It  therefore  happened 
that  at  the  age  of  sixteen  Zohra  still  remained  single. 

It  was  at  a  festival  of  the  Hasaneyn  that  she  met 
her  fate.  Accompanied  by  Miss  O'Donald  and  two  of 
the  eunuchs,  she  went  to  visit  the  tomb  of  Hoseyn,  for 
women  at  all  times,  says  the  narrator,  are  more  attracted 
to  the  shrines  of  heroes  than  to  even  that  of  the  Prophet 
himself.  The  mosque  was  so  crowded  with  people  that 
the  dervishes  could  hardly  find  room  in  which  to  per- 
form the  zikr. 

The  eunuchs  managed  to  force  a  way  through  the 
crowd  so  as  to  allow  the  princess  to  approach  the  tomb, 
and  while  she  was  saying  her  prayers  at  the  shrine  of 
the  hero,  she  was  disturbed  by  an  uproar  which  arose 
not  far  off^     Shouts  of  '  a  Christian  '  resounded  through 

35 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

the  building.  Sticks  were  raised  and  knives  unsheathed 
by  an  infuriated  mob,  who  surrounded  a  tall,  fair-haired 
man  who,  with  his  back  to  the  wall,  was  hitting  out 
right  and  left  to  keep  his  assailants  at  bay.  His  turban 
had  fallen  off,  and  his  fair  and  unshaven  head  showed 
only  too  clearly  that  he  was  not  a  Moslem. 

'  It 's  my  brother,'  called  out  the  governess,  and 
appealed  to  those  near  her  to  go  to  his  rescue.  Zohra, 
who  had  now  reached  her  side,  first  saw  the  blood- 
stained and  handsome  face  of  the  young  Irishman,  and 
uttering  a  piercing  scream,  she  ordered  the  assailants  to 
desist.  Seeing  from  her  attendants  that  she  belonged 
to  the  viceregal  household,  there  was  a  slight  pause,  and 
those  near  her  made  way  for  her  to  reach  the  one  they 
had  been  attacking.  She  took  the  young  man  by  the 
hand  and  led  him,  through  the  murmuring  crowd,  into 
the  street. 

As  they  disappeared,  loud  cries  of  '  Allahu  ! 
Allahu  ! '  resounded  throughout  the  mosque.  The 
princess  threw  her  arms  in  the  air  and  victoriously 
repeated  the  cry  :  '  Allahu  !  Allahu  ! ' — Such  was  their 
first  meeting. 

Two  young  mamelukes  of  the  household  of  Abbas 
also  happened  to  have  witnessed  the  scene,  and  re- 
peated every  detail  of  it  to  their  master.  The  narrator 
goes  on  to  say  that  *  Abbas  was  silent,  like  a  serpent 
who  coils  itself  in  readiness  for  a  spring.' 

Spies  were  sent  forth  to  find  out  who  this  man  in  truth 
might  be.  His  name  was  O'Donald,  and  there  was  no 
doubt  that  he  was  the  governess's  brother.  He  had 
first  come  to  Egypt  in  1840,  when,  after  the  siege  of 

36 


THE    STORY   OF    THE    PRINCESS    ZOHRA 

Beirut,  Napier's  troops  lay  outside  Alexandria.  Fortune 
had  then  forsaken  Mohammed  Ali.  He  could  not 
prevent  his  enemies  from  drinking  Nile  water  as  much 
as  they  pleased,  and  as  the  Arabs  say  :  '  He  who  has 
drunk  Nile  water  will  sooner  or  later  return  to  the 
Nile.' 

After  the  British  troops  had  quitted  Egypt,  O'Donald 
resigned  his  commission  and  returned  to  Alexandria, 
where  he  had  got  a  situation  as  manager  to  the  over- 
land route  from  that  port  to  Suez.  His  sister  had 
doubtless  described  his  pupil  to  him,  and  had  also  enter- 
tained the  princess  with  tales  of  his  gallant  deeds  while 
serving  in  the  army.  Business  matters  had  taken  him 
to  Cairo  at  the  time  of  this  festival,  and  his  love  of 
adventure  had  led  to  his  disguising  himself  and  enter- 
ing a  mosque  forbidden  to  all  save  the  believers. 

Zohra,  whose  affections  had  so  far  been  disengaged, 
was  all  too  ready  to  fall  in  love  with  this  handsome 
Irishman,  whose  praises  she  had  so  often  heard  from  the 
lips  of  his  sister.  Beholding  him  for  the  first  time 
bravely  repelling  the  attack  of  the  infuriated  mob,  he 
personified  in  her  imagination  the  heroism  of  those  who 
first  spread  the  Mohammedan  faith.  To  use  the  words 
of  the  narrator:  'She  was  taken  as  in  a  whirlwind. 
Love  consumed  her  as  a  fire.  She  wept  through  the 
whole  of  that  hot  night.  She  implored  one  of  her 
sisters  to  help  her  to  meet  her  lover,  and  on  her  reftisal 
she  bit  her  in  the  cheek.' 

Miss  O'Donald  was  alarmed  at  the  state  of  her  pupil 
and  also  for  the  safety  of  her  brother.  She  wrote  and 
warned  him   to  keep  away  from  Cairo,  and  if  possible 

37 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

to  get  away  from  Egypt.  Unfortunately  the  eyes  of  the 
young  princess  confirmed  the  glowing  descriptions  of 
her  beauty  which  his  sister  had  given,  and  the  young 
Irishman  seems  to  have  been  consumed  with  the  same 
fire  as  that  of  his  lady-love.  Instead  of  keeping  away 
fi"om  Cairo,  he  contrived  to  get  his  company  to  give 
him  a  post  in  that  city. 

On  the  third  night  of  Bairam,  when  rich  and  poor, 
old  and  young,  repair  to  the  cemeteries  to  pray  at  the 
graves  of  their  belongings,  the  young  lovers  seized  on 
this  opportunity  to  see  each  other  once  more.  Zohra 
went  with  the  women  of  her  hareem  to  that  great 
wilderness  of  tombs  on  the  south-eastern  outskirts  of  the 
city.  She  was  not  slow  in  recognising  her  lover  in  the 
apparently  devout  Moslem  who  came  to  pray  at  the 
tomb  where  she  sat.  The  wailing  of  the  women  and 
the  howling  of  the  dervishes,  performing  the  zik?-^  were 
a  sufficient  noise  to  prevent  the  words  the  two  inter- 
changed from  being  heard  by  Zohra's  attendants,  and 
before  they  parted  a  future  means  of  meeting  had  been 
arranged. 

'  I  believe,'  goes  on  the  story-teller,  '  that  she  loved 
him  as  the  heroes  of  our  faith  in  the  olden  times  loved 
the  beautifial  women  whom  Allah  had  given  them  as  a 
foretaste  of  Paradise.  He  also  must  have  loved  her  as 
one  bereft  of  his  senses,  for  he  must  have  known  that 
he  moved  amidst  naked  daggers  or  even  worse.' 

On  the  night  previous  to  the  *  Yom  Gebr  el-Bahr,' 
which  signifies  '  the  Breaking  of  the  River '  (and  when 
the  dam  is  cut  to  enable  the  Nile  to  replenish  the  canal 
which  used  to  flow  through  Cairo),  great  festivities  take 

38 


THE    STORY   OF    THE    PRINCESS    ZOHRA 

place.  Tents  are  erected  on  each  bank  of  the  canal 
and  also  on  the  edge  of  the  island  of  Rodah,  which 
faces  the  canal's  entrance.  The  river  is  crowded  with 
boats  lit  up  with  numerous  lanterns  ;  fireworks  are  let 
off  and  guns  are  fired ;  yet  they  fail  to  drown  the  noise 
of  the  musical  instruments  and  the  eternal  refrain  of  the 
singers.      Cairo  makes  a  night  of  it. 

From  the  farther  side  of  the  island  of  Rodah  our 
princess  stepped  on  to  her  dahabteh  which  was  moored 
at  the  river  edge  of  the  palace  gardens.  She  was 
accompanied  by  the  hareem,  and  she  gave  orders  to  let 
the  barge  drift  down  the  river  and  to  drop  the  anchor 
where  the  crowd  of  boats  was  not  so  great. 

The  ladies  of  the  hareem,  including  Miss  O'Donald, 
remained  on  the  deck,  fi'om  whence  they  obtained  a 
good  view  of  the  fireworks  and  of  the  festivities  taking 
place  on  the  Nile.  Zohra  retired  to  her  cabin,  and 
might  by  the  light  of  her  candle  have  been  seen  by 
many  of  the  folks  outside,  were  these  not  too  much 
occupied  in  merry-making.  The  candle  was  moved  to 
and  fro  for  a  few  seconds  and  then  extinguished. 

From  the  shadow  of  a  clump  of  trees  overhanging 
the  edge  of  the  river  an  English-built  skiff  issued 
into  the  main  stream,  then  shot  along  the  side  of  the 
dahabteh  and  came  to  a  standstill.  The  lovers  had  met 
once  arain. 

Skilfully  as  this  had  been  managed,  it  had  not 
been  unobserved  by  Miss  O'Donald,  who,  in  a  fever  of 
anxiety,  paced  up  and  down  the  deck.  The  skiff 
could  be  seen  by  the  lights  of  some  boats  which  had 
drifted  that  far  down  the  stream.      The  governess  also 

39 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

suspected  that  Abbas  had  spies  amongst  the  women  of 
the  hareem ;  but  she  dared  not  breathe  a  word  of  warning 
to  her  brother  below  for  fear  of  attracting  attention. 

Not  only  had  he  been  seen,  but  from  a  neighbour- 
ing cabin  an  assignation  had  been  overheard  and  in 
due  time  reported  to  Abbas.  They  were  to  meet  the 
following  night  in  the  garden  of  the  palace  at  Rodah. 
Zohra  felt  sure  of  the  silence  of  the  eunuchs  and  also  of 
her  female  attendants ;  she  had  not,  however,  bribed 
some  of  the  crew  as  highly  as  Abbas  had  done. 

O'Donald,  the  next  night,  fastened  his  boat  under 
the  trees  which  project  over  the  garden  wall  and  picked 
his  way  along  the  edge  of  the  river  to  the  steps  at  the 
Nile  entrance.  He  found  the  gates  unlocked,  and 
walked  in.  Instead  of  his  lady-love  four  armed  mame- 
lukes  issued  from  the  shrubbery  and  rushed  to  attack 
him.  The  Irishman  dropped  two  with  his  revolver,  and 
the  other  two  turned  and  bolted. 

Abbas  was  awaiting  events  at  the  garden  door 
of  the  hareem,  which  he  had  locked  from  outside. 
When  he  heard  the  firing  and  the  howls  of  his  mame- 
lukes,  he  felt  sure  that  events  had  not  turned  out 
quite  as  he  had  intended.  Miserable  creature  as  he  was, 
Abbas  was  no  coward,  and  his  agents  having  failed  him, 
he  rushed  down  himself  to  attack  the  enemy. 

A  kick  on  his  shin  sent  him  sprawling  into  a  flower- 
bed, and  O'Donald  made  off  to  his  skiff.  He  had, 
however,  recognised  whom  it  was  that  he  had  knocked 
over.  But  before  he  could  take  safety  in  flight  he  felt 
bound  to  send  a  warning  to  Zohra  and  also  to  get  his 
sister  away. 

40 


THE    STORY    OF   THE    PRINCESS    ZOHRA 

The  story-teller  goes  on  to  say :  '  In  such  moments 
one's  reasoning  becomes  confused.  Allah  alone  can 
help  one.  But  why  should  Allah  stretch  forth  a  help- 
ing hand  to  the  unbeliever  whose  audacious  conduct 
well  merited  punishment  ? ' 

A  French  Jewess,  known  as  Madame  Ricochette, 
resided  in  Cairo  at  that  time.  She  used  to  visit  all  the 
principal  hareems  to  trade  in  Paris  jewellery  and  bon- 
bons. O'Donald  went  to  see  her  early  on  the  following 
morning,  and  with  promises  and  flattery  induced  her  to 
take  a  note  to  the  princess  and  to  bring  back  an  answer. 
He  was  to  meet  Zohra  in  the  garden  for  the  last  time, 
his  sister  was  to  come  away  with  him  in  his  boat,  and 
they  were  to  leave  Cairo  at  once. 

They  never  saw  each  other  alive  again.  He  was 
shot  on  the  threshold  of  the  hareem  in  Zohra's  garden. 
Abbas  had  intercepted  the  letters  and  had  apprised 
Mohammed  Ali  of  the  affair.  Six  Arnauts — good, 
dependable  shots — were  sent  and  were  placed  behind 
some  bushes  which  the  ill-fated  man  would  pass  on 
the  way  to  his  love.  Six  bullets  ended  his  earthly 
career. 

Abbas  was  a  clever  organiser.  A  mule  was  kept 
in  readiness  to  carry  the  body  away,  and  two  of  the 
Arnauts  placed  it  on  the  beast  while  the  others  remained 
with  the  prince.  The  hareem  door  was  thrown  open 
and,  as  Zohra  approached,  Abbas  laughingly  welcomed 
her  to  her  lover. 

'  Such  women,'  goes  on  the  narrator,  '  do  not  go 
off  in  a  faint,  as  do  yours  in  the  West.      She  flew,  as 
one  possessed,  to  the  corpse  of  her  beloved,  and  steeped 
F  41 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

her  hands  in  his  blood.  She  had  to  be  dragged  away 
and  carried  back  to  the  hareem.  When  she  had  re- 
covered from  her  stupefaction,  she  ordered  two  servants 
to  see  Miss  O'Donald  off  to  Alexandria,  where  friends 
would  see  her  safely  on  board  the  first  home-going 
steamer;  the  princess  also  provided  her  handsomely 
with  the  means  to  get  back  to  her  country.' 

Worse  is  still  to  follow.  The  devil  in  Abbas  had 
become  more  potent  than  ever.  He  had  the  body 
of  the  Irishman  taken  to  Shubra  and  buried  in  an 
outlying  field — upright,  with  the  head  below  and  the 
feet  sticking  out  of  the  ground.  Then  spoke  Abbas  : 
'  Allah,  do  thou  with  him  as  thou  wilt  ;  but  the  dogs 
shall  devour  the  feet  which  kicked  me.' 

The  field  was  guarded  during  a  week ;  no  one  dared 
enter  by  day,  and  at  night  the  jackals  and  dogs  did 
their  work.  There  in  that  field,  to  this  day,  stands 
with  head  downwards  a  footless  corpse! 

The  O'Donalds,  we  are  told,  had  no  influential 
relations  to  get  this  matter  investigated,  and  the  English 
company  to  which  O'Donald  belonged  knew  more  than 
enough  to  keep  them  silent.  The  young  Irishman  had 
placed  his  life  in  the  balance  with  his  love  and  had  lost. 

'  Allahu  !  Allahu  !  Allah,  lah,  lah,  lah,'  came  the 
ever-increasing  cries  fi-om  the  mosque  outside  the  Khan. 
The  dervishes  were  working  themselves  up  into  a  state 
of  frenzy  ;  and  had  my  permit  to  work  in  the  mosques 
not  made  an  exception  of  the  Hasaneyn,  it  would  have 
taken  a  bolder  man  than  myself  to  have  entered  then. 
I  bade  my  kindly  host  good  night  and  found  my  way 
back  to  the  European  quarter. 

42 


CHAPTER    V 

OF  THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  CAIRO,  AND  OF  A  VISIT 
TO  THE  SHEYKH  AMMIN  SAHEIME 

IT  is  unfortunate  that  an  artist,  residing  in  Cairo  for 
the  purpose  of  painting  its  people  and  its  buildings, 
cannot  live  in  the  city  where  his  chief  interests  lie. 
For  there  are  at  present  two  Cairos  :  the  one  an  old 
oriental  city,  the  other  a  nondescript  modern  European 
town,  placed,  as  it  were  by  accident,  between  the  Nile 
and  its  more  venerable  neighbour.  The  foreigner  who 
speaks  of  Cairo  alludes  to  the  great  blocks  of  buildings 
and  the  palatial  hotels  which  form  this  modern  town,  and 
he  usually  terms  those  other  parts  which  he  has  scarcely 
seen — the  native  quarters.  The  true  Cairo,  and  the 
one  of  which  we  speak,  lies  in  a  rough  parallelogram 
between  the  walls  running  from  the  Citadel  to  the  Bab 
el-Futouh  at  the  eastern  extremity  and  the  Khaleeg,  or 
the  old  canal  now  filled  in,  on  the  west.  The  northern 
and  southern  extremities  end  at  the  mosques  of  Hakim 
and  of  Ibn  Tulun  respectively.  Two  outlying  bits  still 
remain  north  and  south  of  the  new  quarters,  and  are 
known  as  Bulak  and  Old  Cairo.  There  are  remains 
here  and  there  of  a  yet  older  Cairo,  which  stood  on  the 
south-west  of  the  present  city. 

I  should  dearly  love  to  live  in  that  part  spoken  of 
as  the  native  quarters,  instead  of  having  to  live  at  some 

43 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

distance  and  amongst  surroundings  which  do  not  lend 
themselves  to  pictorial  treatment.  I  had  the  oppor- 
tunity to  live  in  a  beautiful  old  house  which  has  been 
carefully  restored  under  the  superintendence  of  Herz 
Bey,  and  which  stands  in  the  very  heart  of  the  old  town. 
The  inconvenience  of  housekeeping,  the  putting  in  of 
necessary  furniture,  and,  above  all,  the  insanitary  condi- 
tion of  its  immediate  neighbourhood,  decided  me  not 
to  avail  myself  of  this  opportunity.  There  would  also 
have  been  the  fear  of  fire.  The  beautiful  7nushrbiych 
work  which  encloses  all  the  windows,  and  is  as  dry  as 
touchwood,  might  at  any  moment  be  set  on  fire  through 
the  action  of  a  careless  servant.  The  house  is  a  perfect 
specimen  of  an  old  Cairene  dwelling,  and  it  has  been 
wisely  repaired  and  is  kept  in  order  at  the  expense  of 
the  Wakfs  administration.  Possibly  restrictions  as  to 
the  lighting  of  fires  would  have  been  imposed  on  me, 
which  would  have  necessitated  a  journey  to  the  European 
quarters  whenever  I  wished  for  a  hot  meal. 

No,  one  cannot  live  here  surrounded  with  what 
one  loves  to  paint  ;  one  may  remain  a  lifetime  in  Cairo 
and  not  be  of  it. 

The  joy  of  having  bright  sunny  weather  in  midwinter 
is  very  great,  and  it  is  also  a  pleasure  to  meet  friends  at 
the  club  or  hotels,  and  for  those  inclined  that  way  balls 
and  parties  can  be  attended  on  most  evenings  during 
the  season.  Personally  I  would  forego  most  of  these 
things  to  live  more  in  touch  with  the  life  of  the  old 
city.  As  an  illustration  of  how  little  the  inhabitants  of 
the  European  quarters  are  concerned  with  what  takes 
place  in  Cairo  proper,  I  will  give  the  following  : — 

44 


OF  THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  CAIRO 

While  I  was  painting  in  the  Suk  es-Selah,  or  the 
gun-makers'  bazaar,  an  old  house  fell  in  not  many  paces 
from  where  I  was  sitting.  As  the  house  was  inhabited, 
willing  hands  were  soon  on  the  spot  to  assist  in  excavat- 
ing those  who  might  be  buried  under  the  ruins.  Help 
was  also  soon  available  from  official  quarters,  and  during 
the  course  of  the  day  five  dead  bodies  were  unearthed. 
I  did  not  expect  this  to  be  given  as  important  a  space 
in  the  newspapers — edited  and  circulating  in  the  modern 
quarters — as  an  account  of  the  last  ball  at  Shepheard's 
would  have  received  ;  but  I  thought  a  line  describing 
an  event  which  cost  the  lives  of  five  people  might  have 
appeared  amongst  the  smaller  items  of  news.  There 
was  no  mention  of  it  in  any  of  them.  When  I  remarked 
on  this  to  some  European  residents,  I  was  casually  told 
that  a  house  falling  down  was  of  constant  occurrence, 
and  a  lady  remarked  on  hearing  of  the  five  Arabs  who 
had  been  killed,  '  II  en  reste  encore  bien  assez.'  From 
the  little  interest  shown,  one  might  have  supposed  that 
this  event  had  taken  place  somewhere  in  China,  instead 
of  within  a  couple  of  miles  from  the  hotel  we  were  in. 

I  witnessed  the  funeral  procession  of  a  noted  Sheykh 
of  Islam  this  last  winter.  The  cortege  was  more  than 
a  mile  in  length,  and  thousands  of  people  crowded  the 
streets  to  pay  their  last  respects  to  so  eminent  a  coreli- 
gionist. A  roar  of  voices,  repeating  the  profession  of 
the  Mohammedan  fiith,  rose  from  every  quarter  of  the 
Arab  city.  I  looked  for  some  information  in  the 
Cairo  papers,  but  not  a  mention  of  it  did  I  find.  The 
Arabic  papers  were  doubtless  full  of  the  event ;  but  as 
few  Europeans,  though  they  may  speak  the  colloquial 

45 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

language  fluently,  can  read  the  written  Arabic,  the  news 
of  the  old  town  rarely  spreads  to  the  new. 

The  older  residents  are  seldom  seen  in  the  old  parts 
of  the  city,  and  that  is  easy  to  understand,  for  familiarity 
with  things  eastern  breeds  an  indifference  with  the 
majority,  even  if  it  does  not  descend  to  contempt.  The 
surprise  is  that  so  few  are  met  there  of  the  thousands  of 
people  who  flock  to  Egypt  for  a  short  season.  A  drive 
down  the  Mousky — one  of  Cairo's  least  interesting  streets 
— a  visit  to  the  Khan  Khalil,  then  a  walk  round  three  or 
four  mosques  and  a  view  from  the  citadel.  After  this 
a  feeling  of  satisfaction  that  the  '  native  quarters '  have 
been  thoroughly  done.  The  fear  of  smells  seems  to 
haunt  them,  for  the  hands  not  carrying  a  kodak  or  fly- 
whisp  often  hold  a  handkerchief  near  their  noses.  Bad 
smells  are  to  be  found  for  those  who  seek  them,  though 
not  as  many  as  in  most  old  European  towns. 

These  might  be  removed  to  advantage.  But  how 
much  would  Cairo  not  lose  of  its  charm  if,  deprived  of 
the  sense  of  smell,  one  wandered  through  its  bazaars  or 
loitered  about  its  market-places  ?  I  cannot  think  of 
the  coffee-stalls  without  their  aroma  of  moka  and  of 
latakiyeh.  The  spice  bazaar  recalls  the  warm  land 
breezes  from  some  tropic  isle.  Would  the  colour  of 
the  fruit-stalls  charm  the  eye  equally,  were  the  scent 
gone  from  their  piles  of  russet  and  gold  ?  Even  the 
smell  of  tan  seems  to  enhance  the  sight  of  the  brilliantly 
hued  skins  in  the  leather-workers'  bazaar. 

Though  each  sense  may  occasionally  be  shocked, 
each  plays  its  part  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  things.  To 
any  one  keenly  interested  in  this  mediaeval  city,  and  who 

46 


OF  THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  CAIRO 

has  studied  its  buildings,  the  eye  is  unhappily  more 
often  now  shocked  than  the  nose.  Uglinesses  which 
are  hardly  noticeable  in  the  European  quarters  are 
slowly  invading  the  old  parts  of  the  city.  I  have  seen 
many  a  beautifial  latticed  window  replaced  by  ready- 
made  imported  sashes,  or  where  the  seclusion  of  the 
hareem  is  necessary,  an  ugly  fretwork  in  lieu  of  the 
turned  jnushrbiyeh  which  gave  so  much  character  to 
the  Cairene  dwelling.  Streets  formerly  covered  in  with 
rafters  and  matting  are  now  exposed  to  the  baking  sun, 
so  as  to  allow  more  light  on  the  cheap  European  goods 
behind  the  plate-glass  windows.  The  official  mind  is 
obsessed  with  the  idea  that  official  work  needs  trousers, 
and  all  aspirants  to  official  billets  don  these  ugly 
garments  and  abandon  the  graceful  kiiftd?i  and  the 
flowing  gtbbeh.  The  same  thing  has  occurred  in  the 
government  schools. 

Trousered  policemen  tread  their  beat  by  day,  while 
the  night  watch  is  allowed  to  go  its  rounds  in  the  native 
costume  \  presumably  because  it  is  less  seen.  The  metal 
faiius  which  swing  before  the  mosque  entrances  are  being 
replaced  by  ugly  petroleum  lamps.  The  water-carrier 
will  disappear  as  each  stand-pipe  is  erected ;  this  doubt- 
less has  its  hygienic  advantages.  But  had  the  well-to-do 
still  the  same  pride  in  their  city  as  had  their  forefathers, 
the  water  would  have  been  conducted  to  the  beautiful 
fountains  which  are  now  allowed  to  fall  into  decay. 

Fortunately  Cairo  is  large,  and  some  years  may  yet 
elapse  before  ugliness  will  have  crept  into  its  innermost 
recesses. 

Round   and   about    the   Tumbakiyeh — where    the 

47 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

coarse  Persian  tobacco  is  retailed  to  the  smokers  of  the 
7idr9reeleh  and  the  sheesheh — the  old-world  look  seems 

o 

still  stern  enough  to  frighten  off  any  shoddy  European 
accessories.  Massive  doors,  nail-studded  and  heavily 
hinged,  close  in  the  Wekcilehs  where  the  tujubak  is 
stored.  More  or  less  dilapidated  gateways  lead  into 
spacious  Khans  where  formerly  caravans  from  Syria  and 
Arabia  unloaded  their  merchandise.  The  convent 
mosque  of  Beybars,  the  Taster,  dominates  this  district. 
From  its  pepper-box  minaret  one  can  look  down  on 
extensive  warehouses  now  partitioned  into  tenements  of 
the  very  poor;  houses  of  erstwhile  merchant  princes 
are  now  falling  into  decay,  and  their  gardens  used  as 
rope-walks  or  bleaching-grounds.  The  mueddin's  call 
to  prayer  sounds  like  the  funeral  dirge  of  the  departed 
glories  of  the  Tumbakiyeh.  The  main  street,  known 
as  the  Gamalieh,  has  all  the  dignity  of  age ;  it  is  too  poor 
a  district,  and  too  far  from  the  present  business  centres, 
to  be  rejuvenated  with  the  lack  of  taste  which  has  ruined 
the  Mousky. 

Down  a  narrow  lane  leading  out  of  the  Gamalieh,  a 
fine  old  doorway  and  some  well-preserved  oriel  windows 
gave  every  promise  that  this  was  the  back  of  a  fine  old 
Cairene  house,  still  inhabited  by  its  owner,  and  not 
allowed  to  fall  into  the  ruinous  state  of  most  of  its  neigh- 
bours. My  man  Mohammed  was  with  me  when  I  made 
the  discovery.  I  asked  him  to  inquire  to  whom  it 
belonged,  and  to  try  to  find  out  if  the  interior  was  at 
all  in  keeping  with  what  we  saw  from  the  lane. 

Mohammed  is  a  man  of  great  resource.  After 
considering  his  mode  of  procedure  for  a  moment,  he 

48 


SUK.  ES-SELAH,  CAIRO 


OF  THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  CAIRO 

pushed  open  the  door,  which  stood  ajar,  and  we  could 
see  the  bowab^  or  doorkeeper,  asleep  on  the  stone  seat 
at  the  angle  of  the  passage.  Mohammed  stepped  lightly- 
along  this  passage,  evidently  in  hopes  of  getting  round 
the  angle  and  obtaining  a  peep  into  the  courtyard, 
without  awaking  the  sleeper.  Not  succeeding  in  this, 
and  being  asked  what  he  wanted,  he  started  inquiries 
after  an  imaginary  relative  who  surely  was  once  a  servant 
in  this  household.  '  Is  this  not,  then,  the  house  of 
so-and-so  ? '  giving  the  name  of  an  imaginary  owner. 
'  Then  who  does  live  here  ? '  The  real  name  of  the 
owner  was  then  given  by  the  doorkeeper.  By  a  few 
more  leading  questions,  it  was  found  out  that  the  owner 
was  in  his  country  place,  and  would  not  return  till  the 
cooler  weather  set  in.  Mohammed  had  in  the  mean- 
while got  his  peep  into  the  court,  and  had  seen  quite 
enough  to  feel  satisfied  that  here  was  what  I  wanted. 
As  the  hareem  was  in  the  country,  there  would  be 
no  objection  to  the  ghawaga  also  having  a  peep  into 
the  court,  especially  as  a  baksheesh  might  follow  on 
the  peep. 

I  was  then  allowed  in,  and  here  was  a  court  similar 
in  plan  to  many  ruinous  ones  I  had  seen  ;  but  in  a 
perfect  state  of  preservation,  and  suggesting  many 
beautiful  things  in  the  house  which  overlooked  it.  I 
had  never  painted  in  the  interior  of  a  fine  Cairene  house, 
still  kept  up  as  in  the  days  before  Ismael  Pasha  uttered 
his  boast — '  L'Egypte  fait  partie  de  I'Europe.'  I  made 
inquiries  amongst  Egyptian  as  well  as  European  friends 
regarding  the  owner,  and  whether  it  would  be  possible 
to  get  an  introduction  to  him.      I  was  told  that  he  was 

G  49 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

one  of  the  old  school,  lived  as  his  forebears  had  done, 
and  did  not  frequent  the  modern  quarters.  The  more 
inaccessible  this  gentleman  seemed  to  be,  the  more  I 
longed  for  an  entree  into  his  house.  Years  went  by, 
and  this  court  remained  in  my  memory  as  a  beautiful 
picture  which  Lewis  only  could  have  adequately 
painted. 

Towards  the  latter  part  of  my  last  season  in  Cairo, 
I  mentioned  to  my  friend,  Mr.  Bowden  Smith,  how 
difficult  it  was  to  obtain  permission  to  paint  in  the  few, 
yet  remaining,  genuine  old  Cairene  houses.  His  work, 
connected  with  the  ministry  of  finance,  had  brought 
him  in  contact  with  many  of  the  upper  class  Egyptians, 
and  he  named  several  houses  he  could  take  me  to  see. 
'  Have  you  seen  the  house  of  the  Sheykh  Saheime  near 
the  Gamalieh  ? '  he  asked,  and  described  the  very  place 
which  years  since  had  made  so  lasting  an  impression 
on  me. 

We  went  there  the  very  next  day,  and  were  fortunate 
in  finding  the  Sheykh  at  home.  We  were  received  in 
the  takhtabosh^  a  spacious  recess  opening  on  to  the 
court,  and  under  the  principal  guest-chamber,  which 
latter  is  supported  by  a  handsome  granite  column.  A 
row  of  carved  wooden  benches  line  the  three  walls  of 
the  recess,  and  rest  on  a  paved  floor  a  few  inches  higher 
than  the  open  court.  Cushions  were  placed  for  our 
accommodation,  and  we  were  courteously  asked  to  sit 
down.  Here  we  took  our  cofi^ee  and  conversed  with 
our  host. 

I  told  him  how  glad  I  was  to  meet  one  who  still 
had  a  pride  in  the  beautiful  things  his  country  had  pro- 

5° 


A   VISIT   TO    SHEYKH    AMMIN    SAHEIME 

duced,  and  who  preferred  keeping  up  the  home  of  his 
ancestors  to  Hving  a  r Europee?ine  in  the  modern 
quarters.  He  could  not  foretell  what  his  sons  might 
do  ;  but  as  far  as  he  was  concerned,  he  would  keep  to 
the  dress  of  his  forebears  and  end  his  days  in  the 
dwelling-places  which  they  had  built.  '  Should  I  better 
myself,'  he  asked,  '  if  I  left  this  house  for  one  at  Kasr- 
el-Aine,  or  in  the  Ismaelieh  quarter  ? '  A  vision  of  the 
pretentious  villas  '  en  style  Arabe,'  '  en  style  Egyptien,' 
or,  worse  yet,  the  Levantine's  conception  of  '  I'art 
nouveau,'  rose  up  before  me,  and  by  contrast  made 
more  beautiful  the  court  we  overlooked.  The  gentle 
cooing  of  the  doves,  and  the  sound  of  running  water 
amidst  the  flowering  shrubs,  would  never  here  ill-tune 
with  the  hooting  of  a  motor.  The  roses,  which  gar- 
landed the  trellised  windows,  seemed  more  beautiful  than 
those  which  try  to  hide  the  cast-iron  balconies  of  modern 
Cairo.  No  sound  from  the  outside  world  penetrated 
here  till  the  solemn  call  to  prayer  from  Beybar's  mosque 
recalled  the  hour  of  day. 

We  made  a  move,  thinking  that  our  host  might 
wish  to  attend  the  Asr.  To  our  delight,  however, 
he  asked  if  we  would  care  to  go  over  the  house 
with  him.  Nothing  suiting  us  better,  he  conducted  us 
across  the  court  to  a  door  and  passage  leading  to  the 
mandarah  or  guest-room.  The  anteroom  we  passed 
through  suggested  a  good  subject,  and  I  threw  out  some 
hints  that  I  should  like  to  do  a  sketch  of  it.  Whether 
our  host  understood  what  I  was  driving  at  or  purposely 
passed  on  to  another  subject,  I  could  not  quite  make 
out ;   but  a  wink  from  my  friend   that   he   would  have 

SI 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

another  try  later  on  reassured  me.  The  room  was 
sparsely  furnished,  as  is  generally  the  case  in  oriental 
houses.  High  wooden  benches  lined  the  walls,  and  if 
we  add  to  these  a  few  cushions,  some  rugs,  and  one  or 
two  hanging  lamps,  we  shall  have  described  about  all 
this  anteroom  contained.  The  light  trickling  through 
the  latticed  windows  showed  up  the  design  of  the 
7?iushrbiyeh^  and  it  is  not  appreciable  how  decorative 
these  turned  wooden  gratings  are  until  they  are  seen  from 
the  inside.  The  wall  surfaces  were  quite  plain,  and  gave 
a  value  to  the  ornamentation  surrounding  the  lintels  of 
the  three  doors  which  opened  into  the  room.  On  each 
lintel  was  a  Koranic  text  in  raised  lettering  and  relieved 
on  a  blue  ground. 

The  simplicity  of  the  anteroom  served  to  enhance 
the  rich  decoration  of  the  guest-room  itself.  The 
durkddh^  which  is  that  part  of  the  floor  nearest  to  the 
entrance,  had  a  beautiful  tesselated  pavement.  In  the 
centre  stood  a  double-basined  marble  fountain  sending 
up  several  jets  of  water,  which  were  caught  in  a  shallow 
well  around  its  base.  It  is  in  the  diirkddh  that  the 
guest  drops  his  slippers  before  ascending  to  the  iiwdn, 
which  is  raised  a  few  inches  above  the  pavement  and 
occupies  about  one-third  of  the  apartment.  Hand- 
somely covered  mattresses  with  heavy  cushions  line  the 
three  enclosing  walls  and  form  the  ciiwaan  or  divan,  as 
we  call  it.  In  this  instance  the  ceiling  of  the  liwdn 
was  several  feet  lower  than  the  roof  of  the  durkddh^ 
and  with  its  retaining  arch  bore  much  the  same  relation 
to  the  rest  of  the  apartment  as  does  that  of  the  chancel 
to  a  one-aisled  church.      The  intricate  pattern  of  the 

52 


A    VISIT   TO    SHEYKH    AMMIN    SAHEIME 

7nushrbiyeh  occupied  the  place  of  an  east  window. 
Cupboards  with  minute  panels  of  varying  arabesque 
designs,  and  shelves  with  bowls  and  dishes  of  Rhodian 
or  Egyptian  ware,  furnished  the  walls  above  the  divan. 
The  geometrical  patterns  on  the  ceiling  and  the  vivid 
colours  with  which  they  were  defined  would  have  been 
disturbing  to  the  eye,  were  it  not  for  the  subdued  light, 
in  which  the  decoration  was  partially  lost. 

Everything  was  harmonious,  all  seemed  exactly 
right.  I  would  fain  have  lingered  on  the  divan  and 
heard  our  host  relate  of  deeds  which  may  have  been 
done  within  these  walls.  But  there  was  more  to  see. 
Leaving  this  beautiful  guest-chamber  and  crossing  the 
anteroom,  we  were  taken  up  a  winding  staircase  to  the 
hammdm.  Our  Turkish  baths  are  modelled  on  a 
similar  plan,  but  as  this  one  was  only  for  private  use,  it 
was  on  a  smaller  scale  than  a  public  one,  and  marble 
floors  and  seats  here  took  the  place  of  more  ordinary 
materials.  From  thence  we  were  taken  through  a 
corridor  and  into  another  guest-chamber. 

A  slight  smile  on  the  face  of  our  host  seemed  to 
express  a  question  as  to  what  we  should  say  about  this 
room,  having  exhausted  our  terms  of  admiration  on 
the  one  below.  Here  was  the  place  where  he  wished 
us  to  linger  and  sip  our  coffee  until  the  mueddin  once 
more  called  to  prayer  at  the  close  of  the  day. 

Some  of  the  features  of  the  fnandarah — as  the 
guest-room  below  is  called — were  here  :  the  two  levels  of 
the  floor  defining  the  limits  of  the  durkddh  and  that  of 
the  liwdn ;  the  tesselated  pavement  and  marble  fountain 
in  the  one  and  the  mattressed  and  cushioned  divan  ot 

53 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

the  other ;  the  miishrbiyeh  also  spHt  up  the  Hght  in  a 
pattern  suggesting  the  interlacing  of  strings  of  beads, 
and  the  panelling  of  the  doors  and  ceiling  were  as  rich 
in  arabesque  design  as  that  which  we  had  seen  below. 
The  one  apartment  was  as  truly  Egyptian  as  the  other, 
yet  it  left  a  distinctly  different  impression. 

The  more  subdued  light  of  the  nia7idarah^  as  well 
as  the  chancel-like  appearance  of  the  /iwdn^  had  an 
impressiveness  which  was  not  here ;  but  it  might  easily 
have  appeared  gloomy  had  we  visited  this  lighter  and 
more  highly  coloured  room  first. 

We  were  now  in  what  was  probably  the  Kdd^  or 
principal  apartment  of  the  hareem  of  former  days.  I 
have  learnt  since  that  the  Sheykh's  family  is  a  small  one, 
so  the  rooms  overlooking  the  garden  and  in  a  wing  of 
the  house — which  we  were  of  course  not  shown — 
would  be  amply  sufficient  for  the  women-folk  of  his 
household. 

The  hareem,  or  harem,  as  it  is  often  miscalled  in 
England,  is  also  often  misunderstood.  Its  true  mean- 
ing is  the  '  prohibited,'  that  is  '  sacred '  to  the  master  of 
the  house.  It  is  that  portion  of  the  house  which  is  con- 
fined to  the  women  and  children,  and  is  not  necessarily 
a  kind  of  luxurious  prison  for  a  number  of  wives, 
which  many  unacquainted  with  the  East  often  suppose. 
The  '  selamlik '  is  that  part  of  the  house  used  by  the 
male  portion  of  the  household.  As  the  great  majority 
of  Egyptians  have  only  one  wife  at  a  time,  the  hareem 
generally  occupies  less  of  the  house  than  the  '  selamlik.' 
The  term  '  el  hareem '  also  applies  to  women  col- 
lectively. 

54 


A   VISIT   TO    SHEYKH    AMMIN    SAHEIME 

It  would  not  have  been  proper  to  ask  if  the 
beautiful  apartment  we  were  in  had  ever  been  used  as 
the  Kcidj  for  one  must  be  on  very  intimate  terms  with  a 
Moslem  before  alluding  in  any  way  to  what  concerns 
his  women-folk.  A  feminine  touch  of  lightness  absent 
in  the  selamlik  convinced  me  that  we  were  being 
entertained  in  what  at  one  time  formed  a  part  of  the 
hareem. 

The  chief  attraction  was  the  grand  display  of 
beautiful  old  tiles  which  covered  the  walls.  The  design 
showed  a  Persian  influence,  and  was  not  confined  to 
the  geometrical  patterns  of  the  more  orthodox  Saracenic 
work,  and  pretty  as  this  is,  it  is  the  colour  which  gives 
it  its  great  charm.  Blues  tending  to  green  played  with 
blues  of  a  violet  shade,  touches  of  puce  and  emerald 
green  joined  in  the  revelry  of  colour.  No  ornaments 
were  hung  or  bracketed  on  these  wall  spaces,  for  were 
they  not  ornament  sufficient  in  themselves?  The 
mattresses  and  cushions  of  the  divan  had  richer  cover- 
ings, were  more  elegant  in  pattern,  and  less  sombre  in 
hue  than  those  of  the  divan  we  had  first  seen. 

What  a  studio  this  would  have  made  for  any  one 
desirous  to  paint  eastern  subjects  !  Better  that  it 
remain  as  it  is  —  a  dignihed  setting  to  a  worthy 
Egyptian  gentleman. 

As  the  sun  got  more  round  to  the  west,  the  shadow 
of  the  mtishrbiyeh  patterned  the  floor,  and  gem-like 
touches  of  light  crept  slowly  up  the  wall  facing  the 
great  window.  Above  the  turned  wooden  grating, 
which  showed  its  design  so  beautifully  in  the  shadow 
it  cast,  a  second  window  admitted   the  light  through 

55 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

numerous  pieces  of  coloured  glass  set  in  deep  mould- 
ings of  old  plaster  work. 

Mr.  Bowden  Smith  chatted  with  the  Sheykh  about 
mutual  acquaintances  and  of  affairs  pertaining  to  the 
present  day  ;  but  whether  it  was  my  insufficient  know- 
ledge of  Arabic  or  whether  my  surroundings  had  carried 
my  thoughts  elsewhere,  I  lost  the  thread  of  their  con- 
versation. When  appealed  to  about  some  point,  I  had, 
before  I  could  answer,  to  disentangle  my  thoughts  from 
'  The  story  of  the  Humpback '  which  I  had  pictured 
Shahrazad  rehearsing  to  her  sister  in  anticipation  of  one 
of  the  thousand  and  one  nights.  The  two  daughters  of 
the  Vizir  had  hardly  settled  the  point  as  to  the  working 
of  this  story  into  the  one  of  '  Noor  ed-Deen  and  Enees 
el  Jelees,'  when  the  deep  wail  'Allahu  Akbar!'  from 
Beybar's  minaret  announced  the  jnaghrib. 

The  patterned  shadow  had  left  the  floor,  and  the 
touches  of  light  from  the  stained  glass,  intensified  in 
colour  by  the  declining  sun,  crept  from  wall  to  ceiling 
as  we  rose  to  depart. 


ENTRANCE  TO  THE  HAREEM 


CHAPTER    VI 

MY  SECOND  VISIT  TO  THE  SHEYKH  AND  MY  EXPERI- 
ENCES WITH  AN  UNFAITHFUL  SERVANT 

MY  friend  explained  to  the  Sheykh  my  desire  to 
set  up  an  easel  in  some  parts  of  his  house.  A 
suspicious  fear  added  to  his  wish  to  please  gave 
me  an  uncomfortable  feeling  of  having  presumed  on  the 
good  man's  hospitality.  It  took  some  time  to  clear  his 
mind  of  any  prejudicial  effects  which  might  ensue  on 
my  working  here.  Picture  painting  is  so  foreign  to 
the  Moslem's  education,  and  strictly  speaking  is  a  breach 
of  Koranic  law,  that  a  slight  hesitation  in  giving  me 
permission  is  understandable.  The  likeness  of  nothing, 
which  is  in  heaven  above  or  in  the  earth  beneath,  hung 
on  his  walls  to  assist  us  in  explaining  the  nature  of  my 
work  ;  and  that  veil  which  is  ever  in  a  degree  between 
the  western  and  the  oriental  mind  seemed  thickened 
for  a  while.  The  wish  to  please,  however,  predominated 
over  the  suspicious  fears,  and  he  bade  us  farewell  with 
the  assurance  that  his  house  was  at  my  disposal. 

It  was  days  before  I  returned,  as  I  wished  to  com- 
plete a  street  scene  I  was  then  engaged  on.  I  had  lost 
my  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend,  Mohammed,  whom  I 
did  not  wish  to  do  out  of  a  lucrative  job  up  the  Nile,  and 
I  had  in  his  stead  one  with  a  plausible  exterior,  but 
H  57 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

possessing  none  of  the  virtues  and  all  the  vices  which 
go  to  make  up  a  dragoman.  To  work  in  the  streets 
and  bazaars  in  Cairo  without  a  man  to  keep  ofF  the 
small  boys  is  almost  an  impossibility,  and  much  of  one's 
comfort  depends  on  the  tact  and  willingness  of  the  man 
one  employs. 

Mansoor  (to  give  him  an  alias)  spoke  and  read 
English  remarkably  well,  and  having  learnt  like  a  parrot 
some  sentences  concerning  the  Pyramids  and  some  of 
the  chief  monuments  of  Cairo,  he  was  in  hopes  of  soon 
obtaining  a  dragoman's  licence.  Without  this  licence, 
happily,  none  may  guide  the  tourist,  and  as  an  examina- 
tion ot  sorts  is  now  required,  and  also  a  character  from 
some  previous  employer  as  to  the  good  behaviour  of  the 
applicant,  the  tourist  may  run  less  risk  in  future  of 
being  hopelessly  swindled  than  he  did  in  earlier  days. 
But  acting  merely  as  my  servant,  such  licence  was  not  a 
necessity.  He  had  an  irritating  way  of  giving  me  un- 
called-for information.  The  parrot-like  sentences  he 
had  stored  in  his  memory  were  repeated  each  time  we 
passed  a  monument  the  tourist  is  taken  to  see.  These 
might  have  been  amusing  had  I  not  heard  them  ad 
7iaiisea7n  before.  I  did  not  check  him  at  hrst,  and  I 
even  tried  to  supplement  some  facts  absent  from  the 
little  book  which  he  had  learnt  by  heart.  His  usual 
answer,  '  This  is  all  the  dragomans  say,'  discouraged 
me  from  trying  to  teach  him  anything. 

The  Khan  Khalil  was  the  school  in  which  the  true 
tricks  of  his  trade  were  to  be  studied.  While  I  worked 
there,  Mansoor  would  crawl  about  listening  to  the 
prices    paid    for   the    various    purchases,    and    probably 

58 


MY    SECOND    VISIT   TO    THE    SHEYKH 

passed  sleepless  nights  till  he  had  found  out  about  the 
commission  the  guides  had  obtained  for  bringing  a 
customer.  His  smart  clothes  and  his  fluent  English 
must  have  imposed  on  many  a  stall-holder  that  he  was 
either  a  licensed  dragoman  or  was  shortly  to  become 
one.  Coffee  and  cigarettes  were  pressed  on  him  at 
whatever  mastaba  he  deigned  to  sit. 

While  I  worked  in  a  mosque  not  far  from  this 
bazaar  he  would  sit  at  the  window  and  watch  for 
tourists.  Several  times  he  had  an  uncle  to  bury.  He 
would  explain  that  there  was  only  just  time  for  him  to 
pay  his  last  respects  to  his  deceased  relative,  and  if  I 
would  let  him  go  he  would  be  sure  to  be  back  by  the  time 
I  was  prepared  to  leave.  I  would  tell  him  to  go  and 
bury  his  relative,  and  had  he  asked  to  bury  himself,  I  was 
prepared  by  this  time  to  give  him  my  full  permission. 

The  last  time  he  left  me  on  his  sorrowful  errand,  I 
mounted  on  to  the  window-sill  where  he  was  wont  to 
watch  for  the  prey  as  yet  withheld  from  him.  I  saw  a 
party  of  tourists  just  disappearing  into  an  alley  leading 
into  the  Khan  Khalil,  while  Mansoor  was  questioning 
the  driver  of  one  of  the  cabs  which  they  had  left,  and 
then  he  also  was  lost  in  the  shadow  of  the  selfsame  alley. 
He  returned  some  time  after  I  was  ready  to  start  for  my 
hotel,  and  I  told  him  that  as  he  had  taken  so  long  in 
burying  his  uncle,  he  should  attend  no  more  funerals 
while  he  was  in  my  service.  To  be  told  a  lie  is  seldom 
pleasant;  but  a  verv  stupid  lie  reflects  on  the  intelligence 
of  the  hearer,  and  this  may  partly  have  accounted  for  my 
growing  dislike  of  this  man. 

I   had   unfortunately  not  found  another  to  take  his 

59 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

place  when  I  went  to  the  house  of  the  Sheykh  Saheime 
to  start  a  drawing.  I  was  most  courteously  received, 
and  was  told  to  ask  for  anything  which  I  might 
require.  I  began  a  drawing  from  the  anteroom  of  the 
nia?iciara  looking  into  the  court  and  through  the  pass- 
age, which  also  led  to  the  stairs  of  the  former  hareem. 
I  did  not  wish  to  begin  a  too  elaborate  subject  till  I  felt 
more  sure  that  repeated  visits  were  not  inconvenient  to 
my  host.  Mansoor  joined  the  doorkeeper  and  the  eunuch 
on  their  bench  at  the  front  entrance,  where  he  doubt- 
less enhanced  his  own  importance  by  lying  about  my 
riches  and  relationship  to  the  various  high  English 
officials  in  Cairo.  The  inconvenience  of  such  lies  is 
that  a  tip  proportionate  to  such  imagined  wealth  is 
looked  forward  to.  He  came  presently  as  the  bearer 
of  a  message  from  the  Sheykh,  that  had  the  latter  known 
I  was  coming  that  day,  he  would  have  prepared  a  dinner 
for  me  ;  but  that  he  hoped  I  would  return  on  the 
following  morning  and  would  honour  him  with  my 
presence  at  the  midday  meal.  I  was  grateful  for  his 
kind  intentions,  and  yet  sorry  that  I  might  be  putting 
him  to  some  trouble  and  inconvenience.  I  wished  to 
come  here  often,  and  would  only  feel  comfortable  about 
doing  so  if  I  felt  sure  that  I  was  not  disturbing  him. 

Not  feeling  sure  as  to  my  intentions,  he  came  himself, 
and  was  not  satisfied  till  I  had  promised  to  dine  with 
him  the  next  day.  Mansoor  was  later  cross-questioned 
as  to  whether  I  liked  such  and  such  a  dish.  Did  I 
always  eat  with  a  knife  and  fork  ?  He  supposed  I  sat 
on  a  chair  while  I  fed,  and  could  Christians  get  through 
a   meal  without   strong   drink  ?      Such   questions  were 

60 


MY    SECOND   VISIT    TO   THE    SHEYKH 

duly  repeated  to  me,  so  I  sent  my  man  back  to  the 
Sheykh  with  a  message  that  the  more  the  dinner  was  as 
he  was  accustomed  to  have  it,  the  more  I  should  appre- 
ciate his  hospitality. 

I  was  there  early  on  the  following  morning,  as  I 
wished  to  complete  my  drawing  before  the  meal  took 
place.  I  had  a  good  long  paint  with  no  other  company 
but  a  weasel,  which  is  often  seen  in  Egyptian  houses  to 
keep  off  the  mice  and  rats,  or  whatever  one  chooses  to 
call  that  creature  which  is  too  large  for  the  former  and 
too  small  for  the  latter.  I  know  of  but  one  name  for 
either  of  these  pests,  and  Jirdn  does  duty  for  both. 
Cats  are  also  household  pets,  but  are  less  adaptable  for 
spying  out  the  secret  places  where  the^  Jirdn  are  wont 
to  nest  their  young. 

A  message  came  from  the  Sheykh  to  know  if  I 
wanted  my  dinner  at  twelve  or  at  one  o'clock.  I  sent 
Mansoor  to  find  out  what  his  usual  hour  was,  and 
being  told  that  it  was  just  after  the  midday  prayer,  I 
sent  word  that  no  other  time  would  suit  me  better. 

About  half-past  twelve  the  Sheykh  appeared,  followed 
by  a  gentleman  in  European  clothes  and  a  '  tarbouch.' 
I  was  introduced,  and  informed  that  this  was  a  cousin 
and  a  judge  of  a  native  tribunal.  I  was  relieved  to  find 
that  the  judge  spoke  French  fluently,  for  my  Arabic  is 
liable  to  fail  me  if  put  to  too  severe  a  test.  They 
seemed  interested  in  my  drawing,  and  held  it  close  to 
their  eyes  to  enable  them  to  decipher  the  text  engraved 
on  the  lintel  of  the  door.  It  is  a  never-failing  surprise 
to  Easterns  if  they  can  read  any  lettering  which  one 
may   have  introduced  in  a  drawing.      *  The  g/iawaga 

6i 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

says  he  can't  write  Arabic  ;  then  how  is  it  that  we 
can  read  what  he  has  here  written?'  My  explanation 
that  I  had  merely  copied  the  strokes  and  dots  which  I 
saw  before  my  nose  seldom  satisfied  these  inquiries, 
and  generally  left  a  suspicion  of  something  uncanny. 
Needless  to  say  here  that  the  lady  now  shown  in  the 
illustration  was  non-existent  at  that  time,  and  not  being 
of  the  beau  sexe  myself,  the  privilege  of  seeing  one  at 
any  time  in  this  house  was  not  to  be  expected.  There 
are  still  some  things  left  which  the  painter  may  do  and 
which  are  still  beyond  the  power  of  the  camera. 

Now,  a  word  of  warning  to  any  one  who  may  be 
about  to  dine  for  the  first  time  with  one  of  the  Near 
East.  To  put  it  crudely :  Come  with  an  empty 
stomach  and  eat  as  sparingly  of  the  first  dishes  as 
you  can.  They  may  be  very  good ;  but  our  powers 
of  absorption  may  fail  us,  and  we  might  have  to  pass 
several  subsequent  courses  untouched,  which  might  be 
taken  as  a  slight  to  the  quality  of  the  fare.  I  was  pre- 
pared for  this,  and  had  made  a  very  light  breakfast. 
The  grace,  repeated  in  a  low  voice  by  the  master,  is 
always  impressive :  '  Bi-smi-lldhi-r-rahmani-r-raheem  ' 
(In  the  name  of  God,  the  Compassionate,  the  Merciful), 
and  the  smell  of  the  savoury  dish  which  had  been 
placed  before  us  made  the  '  Tafaddal '  or  invitation  to 
sit  down  doubly  welcome.  Chairs  had  been  borrowed, 
as  a  concession  doubtless  to  the  requirements  of  the 
Ferangi^  and  a  plate,  knife,  and  fork  were  also  placed 
before  me.  I  dismissed  the  latter  articles  as  only  being 
necessary  to  cut  up  the  tougher  food  of  Europeans, 
and    as    quite  useless  with  the  tenderer  dishes   of   the 

62 


MY    SECOND   VISIT   TO    THE    SHEYKH 

Muslemee??.     The  Sheykh  seemed  pleased  at  this  and, 
as  is  the  custom,  first  tasted  of  the  dish. 

When  I  tore  a  piece  off  the  thin  flat  loaf  placed 
before  me  and,  doubling  it,  I  hooked  a  piece  of  meat 
out  of  the  dish,  he  exclaimed  that  I  had  eaten  in  Arab 
fashion  before.  The  judge  agreed  with  me  that  with 
Arab  dishes  he  did  not  see  where  a  knife  and  fork  came 
in.  Not  partaking  so  freely  of  the  yachnee  as  to 
satisfy  our  host,  he  took  a  delicate  morsel  out  of  the 
stew  and  handed  it  to  me. 

The  manner  of  eating  with  the  fingers  seems  strange 
at  first ;  but  it  is  astonishing  how  soon  one  gets  accus- 
tomed to  it,  and  also  how  much  more  delicate  it  seems 
than  when  described  to  those  who  may  never  have 
witnessed  it.  The  right  hand  should  always  be  used  if 
possible,  and  should  a  fowl  be  served,  it  is  polite  to 
catch  hold  of  one  leg,  so  as  to  enable  the  master  to  dis- 
member the  bird  without  having  to  use  his  left  hand. 
It  may  take  as  long  to  learn  the  etiquette  pertaining  to 
the  Arab  mode  of  eating  as  for  an  Arab  to  acquire  all 
the  niceties  observed  at  an  English  table.  Should  a 
stranger,  however,  from  want  of  experience  do  some- 
thing contrary  to  the  usages  of  the  country,  an  oriental 
will  pretend  not  to  notice  it,  as  a  well-bred  Englishman 
would  do  if  the  cases  were  reversed. 

Dish  followed  on  dish ;  when  some  sweetstuffs 
were  placed  on  the  table  my  hopes  revived,  till  they 
were  replaced  by  yet  another  stew.  My  powers  of 
absorption  had  about  reached  their  limit.  I  appealed  to 
my  host  to  consider  the  limited  dimensions  of  my  lower 
waist,  and  that  that  only  prevented  me  from  doing  full 

63 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

justice  to  his  generous  fare.  This  had  some  effect,  and 
I  was  let  off  with  a  tit-bit  which  he  poHtely  handed  to 
me  in  his  fingers.  '  El-hamdu  H-llah  !  '  (Praise  be  to 
God)  from  the  judge,  who  rose  up  and  continued  the 
conversation  while  washing  his  hands,  was  the  abrupt 
sign  that  our  feast  was  at  an  end. 

A  servant  held  a  brass  basin  while  a  second  poured 
the  water  from  a  ewer  over  my  hands,  and,  our  ab- 
lutions at  an  end,  we  were  conducted  to  the  takhtabosh 
to  sip  our  coffee  and  smoke.  I  was  asked  where  I  had 
dined  before  in  Arab  fashion,  and  my  host  was  inter- 
ested to  hear  about  some  dishes  peculiar  to  Morocco, 
also  how  I  had  fared  with  the  Druses  in  the  Lebanon. 
An  Arab  meal,  in  fact,  was  not  in  itself  a  novelty  to  me ; 
but,  as  I  explained  to  the  Sheykh,  I  had  never  dined  in 
such  beautiful  surroundings.  We  got  on  to  the  subject 
of  Japan,  where  the  mode  of  eating  is  much  more  diffi- 
cult to  acquire  than  that  of  the  Near  East.  My  hearers 
showed  a  much  greater  interest  in  things  Japanese  than 
I  expected,  for  as  a  rule  a  Moslem's  sympathies  rarely 
extend  to  countries  beyond  the  sway  of  Islam.  How  I 
had  got  on  without  meat,  bread,  milk  or  butter  sur- 
prised them,  and  settled  any  possible  doubts  as  to 
whether  they  might  wish  to  go  there  themselves.  I  am 
told  that  during  the  Russo-Japanese  war  events  were 
followed  with  keen  interest  in  Egypt.  Every  victory 
of  the  Japanese  was  construed  into  a  victory  of  a  non- 
Christian  people  over  a  Christian  power — of  the  Asiatic 
over  the  European.  When  a  book  I  had  written  on 
my  experiences  in  Japan  appeared  at  the  Cairo  book- 
sellers', I  was  interviewed  by  the  editor  of  an  Arabic  paper 

64 


THE  TAKHTABObH 


MY    SECOND    VISIT   TO    THE    SHEYKH 

to  give  him  as  many  particulars  as  I  could  concerning 
Japan. 

I  avoided  all  talk  as  to  the  present  regime  in  Egypt. 
Though  one  of  my  hearers  had  a  safe  billet,  and  the 
Sheykh  probably  felt  a  greater  security  for  the  property 
he  holds  than  he  would  if  our  occupation  of  Egypt 
ceased,  nevertheless  the  sting  of  being  governed  by  the 
unbelievers  is  always  there,  let  the  unbeliever's  yoke  be 
ever  so  light  a  one. 

A  suspicion  that  I  might  be  hindering  the  afternoon 
nap  induced  me  to  bid  farewell  to  my  host  and  the 
judge. 

Mansoor  had  been  having  a  good  time  feasting  with 
the  servants,  and  when  he  joined  me  I  asked  him  to 
divide  a  7~iyal  between  those  who  had  served  me.  I 
watched  him  present  the  money  to  one  of  them  and  in 
the  presence  of  the  others,  for  I  had  reason  to  suspect 
his  honesty.  I  could  not  hear  the  talk  which  followed, 
but  saw  the  money  passed  on  to  a  boy,  who  was  told 
to  go  to  a  shop  and  change  it.  I  saw  no  object  in 
waiting  any  longer,  so  left  the  house.  Mansoor  wished 
to  stay  behind,  and  as  I  did  not  see  why  he  should  get 
any  of  the  tip,  I  made  him  come  with  me.  In  the 
main  street  I  hailed  a  passing  cab.  Mansoor  now 
seemed  rather  disturbed  and  asked  if  he  could  go  back. 
'  The  boy  will  not  know  where  to  bring  the  change 
of  the  riyal.'  '  Did  you  not  tell  the  boy  to  give  the 
changed  money  to  be  divided  among  the  servants  ? ' 
I  asked.  '  No,  I  did  not  say  it  was  for  the  servants,' 
he  answered,  with  the  look  of  a  detected  thief;  '  I  told 
him    to    bring    the    change   back  to  you,   sir.      Please 

I  6s 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

allow  me  to  return  to  the  house  and  I  will  tell  them 
what  your  intentions  were.'  I  could  not  return  myself 
to  see  the  matter  through,  as  I  remembered  an  appoint- 
ment I  had  to  keep,  and  I  let  the  man  go.  It  dawned 
on  me  as  I  drove  to  my  hotel  that  Mansoor's  object  in 
hanging  behind  was  to  intercept  the  boy  returning  with 
the  change  and  to  pocket  the  lot  himself. 

Explaining  the  circumstances  to  one  who  had  had  a 
long  experience  of  native  servants,  I  was  assured  that 
my  suspicions  were  not  unfounded.  This  villain,  who 
had  been  well  entertained  by  the  servants  of  the  house, 
had  conceived  this  ingenious  manner  of  robbing  them 
of  their  gratuity. 

When  he  turned  up  the  next  morning  I  told  him  I 
should  want  him  no  longer.  Seeming  to  question  the 
reason  of  his  sudden  dismissal,  I  suggested  a  police 
inquiry  as  to  the  disposal  of  the  riyal.  He  wished  to 
hear  no  more,  and  vanished  like  the  ghost  who  was 
asked  for  a  subscription. 

Now  this  is  a  type  of  man  who,  but  for  the  salutary 
regulation  as  to  granting  licences,  would  have  become 
a  dragoman,  and  have  reaped  a  good  harvest,  during 
the  short  season,  by  robbing  the  tourist  by  day,  and 
conducting  others  by  night  to  witness  every  kind  of 
abomination. 


CHAPTER    VII 

IN  WHICH  I  GET  ANOTHER  SERVANT  AND  HUNT  FOR 
A  CROCODILE  ;  ALSO  A  CONTINUATION  OF  THE 
STORY  OF  PRINCESS  ZOHRA 

I  FOUND  a  man,  who  was  used  to  attending  artists 
on  their  rounds,  sooner  than  I  had  hoped  for.  He 
was  a  rougher  type  of  man  than  my  last  one,  but 
one  to  whom  I  took  much  more  readily.  He  spoke 
no  English,  which  was  in  his  favour,  for  though  this 
might  sometimes  be  inconvenient,  it  suited  my  purpose 
better  to  practise  my  Arabic  than  to  have  him  airing  his 
English  on  me. 

Mahmood  Hanafy  is  his  name.  I  give  it  with  pleasure, 
and  in  hopes  that  possibly  these  lines  may  be  read  by 
some  one  who  might  be  glad  of  his  services.  No  two 
men  of  the  same  nationality  could  have  been  a  greater 
contrast  than  this  Mahmood  and  the  disgraced  Mansoor. 
The  more  traps  Mahmood  had  to  carry,  the  more  he 
seemed  to  like  it  ;  when  I  suggested  taking  a  cab,  he 
would  say  the  place  was  no  distance,  and  cabs  were  very 
dear — he  had  evidently  been  well  trained  by  former 
brother-brushes.  Mansoor,  on  the  other  hand,  always 
had  a  cab  near  the  hotel  when  we  started,  and  would 
place  my  sketching  things  on  the  box  in  hopes  I  would 
take  it.  Distances  were  always  enormous  with  him,  and 
when  I  took  a  cab,  he  would  declare  that  the  doubled 

67 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

£^e  asked  was  none  too  much.  The  extra  squeeze  he 
could  then  get  out  of  the  cabbv  harmonised  with  his 
natural  laziness.  Mahmood  was  a  pluckv  fellow,  and 
ready  to  clear  a  street  of  people  if  he  thought  they  were 
in  mv  wav :  while  Mansoor's  braven'  never  went  further 
than  slapping  a  child  if  the  parents  were  not  present, 
whereas,  if  some  hooHgans  promised  to  be  a  nuisance,  he 
generally  slipped  awav. 

Mahmood  had  one  drawback  which  his  predecessor 
had  not,  and  that  was  a  loud  %"oice.  Now,  as  no  pillow 
was  ever  thick  enough  to  prevent  my  hearing  mv  watch 
ticking,  a  huge  volume  of  sound  was  not  necessar\'  when 
he  answered  mv  questions.  If  he  thought  I  did  not 
understand  him,  he  evidentlv  took  it  for  hardness  of 
hearing,  and  his  answers  would  be  loud  enough  to 
startle  the  street.  I  could  not  correct  him  of  this, 
though  he  tried  to  mend.  Trained  as  a  donkey-boy, 
this  voice  had  doubtless  been  of  use  both  in  directing 
his  beast  and  in  the  altercations  which  often  end  a  ride. 
Possiblv  the  deafest  donkevs  were  placed  in  his  care. 
He  was  now  the  owner  of  many  donkeys,  he  told  me, 
and  he  let  them  out  by  the  month  instead  of  running 
after  one  himself.  He  was  always  ready,  however,  to 
run  after  one  if  I  should  require  it.  His  dress  was 
more  humble  than  that  of  Mansoor,  but  he  never  pleaded 
poverty-  to  tr\'  and  get  something  over  his  wage.  He 
told  me  he  had  all  he  wanted,  and  should  I  not  wish  to 
use  him  for  a  few  days,  he  would  willingly  rest  till  his 
services  would  be  required. 

The  other  man,  though  smartly  dressed,  had  always 
some  tale  of  poverty  handv  when  I  gave  him  his  wage, 

'68 


THE    'HASHSHASH' 

and  always  begged  for  an  advance  on  his  future  pay. 
Had  he  not  a  number  of  people  dependent  on  him  ? 
and  the  cost  of  food,  had  it  not  risen  so  much  ?  I 
found  out  afterwards  that  he  had  no  dependants,  and 
that  he  sponged  on  his  sisters  when  he  was  out  of  work- 
He  had  the  appearance  of  one  addicted  to  hashsheesh, 
and  probably  only  smoked  this  of  an  evening,  for  I  could 
never  detect  the  smell. 

This  drug  is  happily  now  forbidden  to  enter  the 
country,  and  strong  measures  are  taken  to  prevent  its 
use.  A  certain  amount  does,  however,  get  smuggled 
in,  and  the  hashshash  or  victim  to  the  drug  can  still 
procure  it  if  he  can  pay  for  its  enhanced  price.  The 
smell  of  its  fiimes  was  much  more  familiar  formerly  in 
the  humbler  coffee-shops ;  but  it  is  not  quite  absent 
now.  It  is  often  mixed  with  tiunbdk^  a  kind  of  Persian 
tobacco,  and  is  smoked  in  the  gdze/i^  a  pipe  made  of  a 
cocoanut-shell,  which  has  a  long  cane  stem.  One  who 
indulges  slightly  in  the  habit  would  not  be  termed  a 
hashshash  any  more  than  a  moderate  drinker  in  England 
would  be  termed  a  drunkard.  The  opprobrium  attached 
to  the  term  is  much  increased  through  its  association 
with  the  Hashshas/iseyn  of  the  time  of  the  Crusades, 
whom  we  know  as  the  Assassins — the  subjects  of  the 
'  Sultan  of  the  Castles  and  Fortresses,'  more  com- 
monly called  'the  old  man  of  the  mountain.'  They 
were  said  to  indulge  freely  in  hashsheesh  when  sent  on 
some  murderous  errand  by  their  chief  Rowdy  or 
riotous  people  are  often  termed  'Hashshasheen'  whether 
they  be  addicted  to  the  drug  or  not. 

Seeing  an  excitable  crowd  quite  recently,  in  one  of 

69 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

the  principal  squares  of  Cairo,  I  approached  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  A  brutal-looking  man  was  struggling 
with  a  couple  of  policemen  who  were  taking  him  off  to 
jail,  while  others  were  placing  on  a  stretcher  a  youth 
who  was  terribly  hacked  about  his  face  and  head.  On 
inquiry  I  heard  that  the  man  in  charge  of  the  police 
was  employed  at  the  public  slaughter-house,  that  he 
was  given  to  hashsheesh,  and  that  in  a  fit  of  madness  he 
had  just  assaulted  with  his  butcher's  knife  the  wounded 
youth.  The  term  hashshash^  which  was  freely  used  by 
the  crowd,  had  a  particularly  gruesome  sound  on  that 
occasion. 

Loud  and  furious  were  the  comments  of  Mahmood, 
and  had  he  not  been  carrying  my  materials  he  would 
have  joined  in  the  struggle  with  the  butcher. 

As  this  took  place  just  within  the  limits  of  the 
European  quarter,  it  was  fully  reported  in  the  foreign 
Cairo  papers.  The  youth  succumbed  to  his  wounds, 
and  the  hashshash  paid  the  death  penalty. 

I  was  on  my  way  to  the  Khaleeg  to  look  for  a  sub- 
ject which  had  attracted  me  on  a  former  visit,  and  before 
this  canal  had  been  filled  in  by  the  tramway  company. 
A  change  for  the  better,  possibly,  from  a  hygienic  point 
of  view,  and  also  as  a  means  of  communication  ;  but  a 
sad  loss  to  the  picturesque.  Many  historic  buildings 
which  backed  on  to  the  canal  have  been  pulled  down, 
and  commonplace  frontages  will  soon  blot  out  all 
remembrance  of  them. 

The  tramway  having  come  to  stay,  it  is  as  well  to 
make  the  best  of  it,  and  to  use  its  cars  along  the  couple 
of  miles   which    bisect   the  city  from  north  to  south. 

70 


THE     'GUARDED    CITY' 

From  this  route  many  a  peep  into  some  old  courtyard, 
or  the  back  of  a  mosque  or  palm-shaded  shrine,  may 
induce  a  descent  from  the  cars  and  a  tramp  along  the 
dusty  road. 

Just  beyond  the  present  governorat  was  an  angle 
of  the  enclosure  known  as  the  '  guarded  city.'  This 
formed  more  or  less  of  a  square  of  rather  more  than 
half  a  mile  each  way,  and  its  western  wall  stood  on  the 
east  side  of  the  present  filled-in  canal.  The  building 
of  this  enclosure  marks  such  an  important  date  in  the 
mediaeval  history  of  Egypt  that  a  few  words  here  may 
not  be  amiss. 

Stanley  Lane  Poole  tells  us,  in  the  Story  of  Cairo^ 
how  in  959  Gawhar,  the  victorious  general  of  el-Mo'izz 
(the  first  Khalif  of  the  Fatimid  dynasty),  entered  Masr, 
as  the  capital  of  Egypt  was  then  called,  and  still  is  by 
its  native  inhabitants.  Plague  and  famine  had  so  re- 
duced the  population,  that  scarcely  any  resistance  was 
offered  to  the  troops  which  Gawhar  had  led  from  Tunis 
into  the  valley  of  the  Nile.  His  first  thought  was  to 
build  a  fortified  place  away  from  the  plague-stricken 
city,  and  yet  near  enough  to  keep  it  in  subjection. 
Beyond  its  northern  extremity  he  pitched  his  camp  on 
a  sandy  waste,  unobstructed  by  any  buildings  save  an 
old  convent.  The  prevailing  winds  being  from  the 
north,  hygienic  reasons  were  also  in  favour  of  this  site. 

When  the  boundaries  of  the  enclosure  were  marked 
out,  astrologers  were  consulted  as  to  an  auspicious  hour 
in  which  to  start  digging  the  foundations.  From  poles 
stuck  in  the  ground  ropes  were  stretched,  from  which 
bells   were   hung,   and   thousands   of  men   stood    ready 

71 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

with  shovel  and  pick  to  dig  out  the  trenches  as  soon  as 
the  astrologers  shook  the  poles,  and  by  the  tinkling  of 
the  bells  announced  the  auspicious  moment.  The  in- 
tentions of  the  astrologers  were,  however,  forestalled  by 
a  raven  who,  alighting  on  a  rope,  set  the  bells  aringing, 
and  every  spade  was  instantly  stuck  into  the  soil.  It 
was  during  the  hour  when  the  planet  Mars  (el-Kahir) 
was  in  the  ascendant — an  evil  omen  for  the  future  peace 
of  the  place.  '  Masr  el-Kahira'  thus  became  the  name, 
not  only  of  the  fortified  enclosure,  but  also  of  the 
adjacent  city.  '  El-Kahira,'  or  the  Martial,  is  that  from 
which  we  get  our  Cairo.  The  omen  was  turned  to 
good  account  by  the  astrologers.  Messengers  were 
sent  to  Mo'izz  to  announce  that  the  foundations  of  a 
triumphant  Masr  had  been  laid  ;  the  name  of  the  last 
of  the  Abbasid  Khalifs  was  no  more  heard  in  the  prayers 
which  were  ojffered  up  in  the  mosque  of  Amr,  and 
Mo'izz  was  proclaimed  the  ruler  of  Egypt.  His  con- 
quests now  extended  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Arabian 
desert,  and  for  two  centuries  the  Fatimid  dynasty  ruled 
the  country. 

Walls,  described  as  being  thick  enough  to  allow 
four  horses  to  be  driven  abreast  on  them,  were  built 
round  the  enclosure  ;  the  foundations  of  a  vast  palace 
worthy  of  the  great  Khalif  were  laid  ;  and  buildings 
were  planned  to  accommodate  his  court,  and  those  who 
would  guard  his  sacred  person.  The  common  folk 
were  not  admitted  within  the  gates  of  the  enclosure 
after  the  Khalif  had  taken  up  his  residence.  It  was 
then  designated  '  Kahira-el-Mahrusa,'  or  the  guarded 
city. 

72 


MOSQUE  OF  MOHAMMED   BEY 


A    HUNT    FOR    A    CROCODILE 

The  Sheea  heresy  which  Mo'izz  had  fostered, 
whether  from  conviction  or  from  pohcy,  had  a  far- 
reaching  influence  on  the  destiny  of  the  country. 

In  the  mosques  orthodox  Moslems  were  replaced 
by  sheykhs  of  the  favoured  sect.  Christians  and  Jews 
were  tolerated  and  often  put  in  high  positions.  What 
civilisation  gained  here  it  more  than  lost  by  cutting  off 
Cairo  from  the  great  centres  of  Saracenic  learning,  and 
though  bent  on  destroying  the  power  of  the  Sunnee  or 
orthodox  Moslems,  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that 
leanings  of  Mo'izz  were  towards  Christianity.  To 
remedy  this  he  built  the  university  mosque  of  el-Azhar, 
proudly  called  '  The  Resplendent.'  He  endowed  it 
liberally,  and  gave  the  students  every  opportunity  to 
study  the  Sheea  teaching  which  had  caused  the  rift  in 
the  Mohammedan  world.  A  great  impetus  was  given 
to  art  by  the  removal  of  the  prohibition  to  copy  any 
natural  objects ;  and  birds  and  beasts,  flowers  and  foliage 
were  freely  made  use  of  in  design  during  the  Fatimid 
period.  Unfortunately  little  remains  of  this,  for,  when 
the  orthodox  party  gained  the  ascendant  during  the  rule 
of  the  House  of  Salahedin,  these  decorations  were  *  a 
mark  of  the  beast'  and  were  in  most  cases  destroyed. 

Vivid  descriptions  exist  of  the  splendour  cf  Mo'izz 
and  the  great  '  East  Palace '  which  he  built.  But  no- 
thing of  all  this  now  remains  except  the  Azhar,  which 
justly  is  still  one  of  the  most  famous  monuments  of 
Cairo. 

Parallel  to  the  canal  runs  a  narrow  street  called 
*  Beyn-es-Sureyn '  or  '  Between  the  walls,'  and  this  con- 
ducts into  another  called  '  sharia  cl-Benat,'  which  means 

K  11 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

the  street  of  the  sisters.  It  is  here  I  have  come  to  make 
a  study  of  a  doorway  of  Httle  architectural  pretensions  ; 
it  leads  into  a  house  built  in  the  middle  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  and  which  backed  into  the  canal.  A 
terrific-looking  crocodile  used  to  hang  over  the  door, 
and  this  one  as  well  as  others  had  caught  my  attention 
during  former  visits  as  being  a  characteristic  ornament  of 
a  Nile  city.  Stories,  I  have  since  heard,  refer  to  this 
crocodile,  and  made  me  wish  to  make  a  drawing  of  it. 
Children  used  to  pass  it  and  speak  with  bated  breath; 
for  it  was  said  that  it  had  grown  to  its  size  from  feeding 
on  the  children,  the  parents  of  whom  the  master  of  the 
house  had  slain  in  Sennaar. 

The  house  was  built  by  the  awe-inspiring  Defterdar 
Ahmed,  whom  Mohammed  Ali  had  sent  to  the  Sudan 
to  avenge  the  murder  of  one  of  his  sons,  and  so  terrible 
were  his  acts  of  retribution  that  he  is  since  known  as 
the  '  Tiger  of  Sennaar.'  His  chief  interest,  however, 
for  the  present  is,  that,  partly  as  a  reward  for  his  valour, 
the  great  Pasha  gave  him  one  of  his  daughters  in  mar- 
riage. Mohammed  Ali  is  reported  to  have  said  that  the 
Tiger  would  be  a  fitting  mate  to  his  Tigress. 

If  my  readers  have  not  forgotten  the  fate  of  O'Donald, 
the  young  Irish  ofhcer,  they  may  recognise  in  this  Tigress 
the  lady  of  his  undoing. 

It  is  related  that  the  princess  Zohra,  after  the  murder 
of  her  lover,  was  for  many  days  as  one  bereft  of  her  senses. 
The  first  conscious  act  we  hear  of  her  is  when  she  stole 
from  the  palace  in  the  dead  of  night  and  found  her 
way  to  the  field  where  O'Donald  was  buried.  The 
jackals  and  dogs  had  left  no  trace  visible  of  where  the 

74 


ANOTHER   STORY   OF    PRINCESS   ZOHRA 

unfortunate  man  was  placed, — they  had  done  their  work 
as  well  as  Abbas  could  have  wished.  The  poor  woman 
was  found  at  break  of  day,  grubbing  with  her  hands  in 
the  soil  to  find  the  body  of  her  beloved  one.  She  was 
forcibly  led  back  to  the  palace  and  the  matter  was  re- 
ported to  her  father.  The  servants  were  severely 
punished  for  allowing  her  to  escape  from  the  hareem, 
and  Zohra  was  kept  in  strict  confinement. 

When  the  Defterdar  returned  soon  after,  from  his 
campaign  in  the  Sudan,  Ali  wished  to  honour  him  as 
highly  as  he  could.  He  saw  also  in  him  one  who  had 
strength  of  will  sufficient  to  be  a  match  for  his  wilful 
daughter.  Ahmed  was  proud  of  the  alliance,  and  built 
and  fiirnished  a  palace  here  in  the  '  sharia  el-Benat,' 
worthy  to  be  the  home  of  his  exalted  bride.  Whether 
the  Defterdar's  life  was  a  happy  one  we  are  not  told. 
But  it  was  a  short  one : — his  death  was  due  to  a  stroke, 
said  the  court  physicians ;  poison,  whispered  the  neigh- 
bours ;  and  poison,  said  Abbas,  whose  hatred  of  his  aunt 
and  former  playmate  grew  as  time  went  on. 

Little  was  seen  or  heard  of  the  widowed  princess 
for  some  time  after.  Few  ladies  from  the  different 
hareems  were  bold  enough  to  call  on  her,  and  the  huge 
crocodile  seemed  more  like  a  bogey  to  fi-ighten  people 
off  than  an  emblem  of  luck  to  the  house  which  he 
adorned. 

The  mysterious  disappearance  of  one  or  two  young 
men  became  the  talk  of  the  neighbourhood,  and  this 
increased  as  the  absence  of  others  was  observed.  The 
body  of  one  was  found  in  the  canal  close  to  the  water- 
gate  of  Zohra's  palace,  and  shortly  after  this  a  second  one 

75 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

was  seen  there.  No  one  dared  voice  their  suspicions  ; 
but  when  the  pubhc  story-tellers  (the  shoara)  told  of 
Kattalet-esh-Shugan,  the  Arabian  Messalina,  knowing 
looks  were  passed  amongst  the  audience.  The  tragedies 
were  repeated  from  time  to  time,  and  every  mother  of  a 
handsome  son  trembled  lest  he  should  be  caught  in  the 
toils  of  one  she  hardly  dared  name,  but  whose  name  was 
in  the  thoughts  of  all. 

Abbas  kept  himself  well  informed  as  to  what  went 
on  in  Zohra's  palace,  but  he  abided  his  time  until 
Mohammed  Ali  should  return  from  the  wars,  or  until 
fortune  should  favour  his  accession  to  the  viceregal 
throne.  In  1841  the  hrman  of  investiture,  as  it  is 
called,  brought  the  wars,  which  Mohammed  Ali  had 
waged  with  varying  success,  to  a  close.  The  hereditary 
sovereignty  of  Egypt  had  been  secured  to  the  family  of 
the  great  Pasha  and,  except  for  the  annual  tribute  to  be 
paid  to  the  Porte,  Egypt  had  become  an  independent 
state. 

Prince  Abbas  now  informed  his  grandfather  of  the 
goings-on  in  his  daughter's  palace.  Gentle  persuasion 
was  never  a  characteristic  of  the  old  gentleman,  and 
the  manner  in  which  he  put  a  stop  to  these  scandals 
reads  like  a  story  in  the  Arabiaji  Nights.  It  is  related 
that  thirty  masons  and  twenty-five  donkeys  laden 
with  bricks  were  immediately  despatched  to  wall  up, 
during  that  very  day,  every  outside  window  and  door 
except  the  one  surmounted  by  the  crocodile.  A  com- 
pany of  soldiers  were  also  sent  to  see  that  these  orders 
were  strictly  carried  out.  Before  sundown  Zohra's 
palace  had  become  a  veritable  prison. 

76 


ANOTHER   STORY   OF   PRINCESS   ZOHRA 

A  modest  house  immediately  facing  the  crocodile 
was  inhabited  by  a  Coptic  scribe.  This  innocent  man 
and  his  family  were  bundled  out  with  all  their  belong- 
ings, and  his  house  was  turned  into  a  guard-room.  A 
watch  was  kept  here  day  and  night  to  see  that  no  one, 
or  nothing  but  what  was  necessary  to  the  upkeep  of 
the  household,  should  pass  through  the  one  access  to 
the  palace. 

We  are  not  told  how  the  princess  passed  the  next 
few  years  in  her  prison.  Mohammed  Ali  sank  into  his 
dotage,  and  the  reins  of  government  were  taken  over  by 
his  adopted  son  Ibrahim.  Prince  Abbas  had  not  to 
wait  long  before  the  legitimate  succession  came  to  him, 
for  Ibrahim  Pasha  died  within  a  year  of  his  viceroyalty 
and  shortly  before  the  demented  Mohammed  Ali's 
decease.      Abbas  then  became  the  ruler  of  Egypt. 

Zohra  now  realised  her  danger  in  remaining  in 
Cairo.  In  spite  of  the  guard  set  to  watch  her  move- 
ments she  succeeded  in  escaping  from  the  canal  side  of 
her  palace,  and  she  crossed  into  Syria  before  her  flight 
became  known  to  her  nephew.  From  Syria  she 
repaired  to  Constantinople,  where  she  sought  and 
obtained  the  protection  of  the  Sultan  of  Turkey. 

We  will  leave  her  there  for  the  present,  and  perhaps 
we  may  refer  to  her  doings  later  on. 

The  crocodile  I  was  in  search  of  had  disappeared, 
and  nothing  remained  whereby  I  could  exactly  locate 
the  palace.  The  story  of  Zohra,  though  of  so  recent  a 
date,  seems  now  to  take  its  place  with  the  tragedies 
enacted  within  Mo'izz's  '  guarded  city.' 

71 


CHAPTER    VIII 

OF  A  CAIRO  CAFfi  AND  OTHER  MATTERS 

I  HAD  not  far  to  go  along  the  filled-in  canal  before 
a  partly  pulled  down  housefront  enabled  me  to 
see  the  court  of  a  once  important  dwelling.  It 
was  similar  in  plan  to  many  I  have  seen ;  but  it  was 
the  only  instance  I  have  met  of  a  vaulted  takhtabosh. 
A  wooden  screen  partly  shut  it  off  from  the  yard,  and 
an  opening  in  one  of  the  panels  served  as  a  doorway. 
Whether  this  screen  belonged  to  the  original  building  I 
cannot  say ;  but  it  certainly  added  greatly  to  its  pictur- 
esque appearance.  The  recess  was  now  converted  into 
a  coffee-shop,  while  the  rest  of  the  house  was  let  out  in 
tenements  to  poor  people. 

It  is  never  safe  to  leave  a  good  subject  to  a  later 
period,  if  it  can  possibly  be  helped.  Some  arrangement 
of  line  or  colour,  often  hard  to  define,  may  be  just 
what  gives  the  subject  its  charm.  Something  may  have 
disturbed  this,  or  some  touch  of  colour  may  have  gone, 
before  a  second  visit,  and  it  leaves  the  painter  wonder- 
ing as  to  what  he  could  have  seen  in  the  place  to  have 
made  him  wish  to  paint  it.  I  started  sketching  in 
the  cafe  at  once,  hoping  that  some  customers  might 
arrive  to  suggest  a  grouping  of  figures.  Should  these 
customers  be  queer  ones,  I  could  trust  to  Mahmood  to 
keep  them  from  disturbing  me  at  my  work. 

I    had  not  long  to  wait  before  a  half-dozen  men 

78 


A    CAIRO   CAFE    AND    OTHER    MATTERS 

came  in.  They  seemed  sufficiently  interested  in 
something  not  to  take  much  notice  of  me.  They 
squatted  down  on  their  heels,  forming  a  ring,  and  two 
of  them  each  pulled  a  game-cock  from  under  their 
cloaks  and  pitched  them  on  to  the  ground.  The 
Cairene  is  usually  very  noisy  during  his  entertainments ; 
but  in  this  case  few  words  were  spoken,  though  the 
men  watched  the  varying  success  of  their  birds  with 
intense  interest.  I  was  too  occupied  in  taking  notes  of 
the  men  and  the  action  of  the  cocks  to  feel  any  interest 
in  the  sport,  and  by  the  time  one  of  the  birds  was  at  its 
last  gasp,  and  lay  bleeding  on  the  ground,  I  felt  a 
sufficient  disgust  for  the  whole  thing  to  decide  me  not 
to  make  it  the  subject  of  a  picture. 

I  saw  them  refer  to  Mahmood  as  to  who  I  might 
be,  for  Koranic  law  forbids  all  betting,  and  I  believe 
cock-fighting  is  contrary  to  police  regulations.  They 
seemed  satisfied  that  I  was  harmless  enough,  and  they 
departed  as  quietly  as  they  had  come. 

The  sport  must  be  a  very  popular  one,  for  these 
birds,  with  their  combs  closely  cut  and  with  plucked 
necks,  may  be  seen  in  almost  any  street  in  the  poorer 
parts  of  the  town.  Whether  the  ancient  Egyptians 
indulged  in  cock-fighting,  I  have  never  been  able  to 
ascertain.  I  can  recall  no  wall  inscriptions  depicting 
the  sport,  neither  does  Wilkinson  refer  to  it  in  his 
Man?iers  and  Customs  of  the  Ancie?it  Egyptia7is.  It 
was  probably  introduced  into  Egypt  during  the  Ptolemies 
or,  at  the  latest,  during  the  Roman  occupation.  Quail- 
fighting  is  common  in  Upper  Egypt,  though  I  have 
personally  never  witnessed  it. 

79 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

The  sun  soon  made  my  place  untenable,  so  I  de- 
cided to  return  in  the  afternoon,  when  I  might  also 
expect  to  find  more  customers  to  suggest  some  figure 
arrangement  suitable  to  my  picture.  It  was  a  grand 
place  for  Mahmood — cups  of  coffee  at  two  for  a  penny. 
I  could  treat  him  to  as  many  as  he  liked,  and  please  the 
Kahwegec  at  the  same  time.  I  confess  to  a  good  many 
cups  myself,  for  coffee  made  in  Turkish  fashion  is 
most  seductive.  The  cups  are  very  small,  and  there  is 
only  a  sip  of  liquid  before  reaching  the  grounds,  which 
are  allowed  to  settle  at  the  bottom.  But  it  is  a  delicious 
sip,  and  it  is  also  very  stimulating.  The  habit  of  after- 
noon tea  acquired  in  England  is  hard  to  break,  and  to 
make  a  journey  into  the  modern  quarters  to  indulge  it 
would  have  cut  seriously  into  my  work,  and  I  found  in 
one  of  these  little  cups  of  coffee  an  excellent  substitute. 
Paint  where  one  wishes,  a  coffee-shop  is  sure  to  be 
within  easy  reach,  and  the  Kahwegee  will  always  for  a 
trifle  bring  coffee,  a  chair,  and  a  glass  of  water,  and  place 
them  next  to  one's  easel.  Now  that  the  native  quarters 
are  supplied  with  pure  water,  one  can  drink  the  latter 
with  safety.  Coffee  drinking  is  often  carried  to  excess 
in  Egypt,  with  deleterious  effects  to  nerves  and  digestion ; 
but  its  victims  are  less  objectionable  neighbours  to  the 
sketcher  than  the  fuddled  European,  who  may  bore  him 
with  questions  and  breathe  on  him  the  odour  of  his 
complaint. 

It  is  said  that  drunkenness  is  on  the  increase  amongst 
the  natives,  and  it  is  true  that  tipsy  men  are  occasionally 
seen.  They  are  chiefly  the  loafers  who  hang  about  the 
European   quarters,  where   modest  coffee-shops  hardly 

80 


A  CAIRENE  CAFE 


A    CAIRO    CAFE    AND    OTHER    MATTERS 

exist,  and  where  nearly  every  other  house  retails  some 
or  other  intoxicant.  Beer  or  spirits  are  hardly  obtain- 
able in  the  purely  native  parts  of  Cairo. 

Towards  evening  this  quaint  little  cafe  would  liven 
up.  The  wooden  bench  which  served  as  a  mastaba 
might  seat  an  cilvn  (as  any  one  who  can  read  is  often 
called),  who  would  drone  out  the  news  from  the  daily 
paper  to  a  group  of  listeners,  and  the  sound  of  the 
chequers  slammed  on  a  backgammon-board  would  make 
an  accompanying  click,  click,  from  inside  the  recess. 
This  game  has  been  borrowed  from  the  Fira?igi^  and  is 
still  called  by  its  French  name  of  '  tric-trac'  It  is 
immensely  popular  amongst  the  effendi  class,  and  is 
gradually  being  adopted  by  those  of  a  humbler  station. 
The  more  primitive  7na7ikaleh  is  still  played  in  Cairo, 
and  is  still  universal  in  the  villages  where  tric-trac  has 
not  yet  found  its  way.  I  have  been  shown  how  to  play 
it,  but  space  will  not  allow  of  a  lengthy  description  of 
its  details.  It  is  played  on  an  oblong  board  with  twelve 
hollows  in  two  rows  of  six  each,  each  row  forming  an 
opposing  camp.  There  are  seventy-two  cowries,  or, 
failing  these,  small  pebbles,  and  it  is  according  to  the 
manner  in  which  these  are  distributed  into  the  hollows 
that  makes  the  game.  An  elaborate  account  of  the  various 
modes  of  playing  it  is  given  in  Lane's  Moder7i  Egyptians. 
It  is  reported  as  having  obtained  in  Pharaonic  times, 
but  this  has  never  been  satisfactorily  confirmed. 

Turkish  draughts  is  also  a  popular  game,  and  to 
my  thinking  much  more  amusing  than  the  way  we  play 
it  in  England.  That  this  game  was  known  (or  a  form 
of  it)  amongst  the  ancients  is  certain,  and   most  visitors 

L  8i 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

to  Medinet  Habu  will  have  been  shown  the  presentment 
of  Rameses  in.  playing  it  with  his  queen. 

Games  of  chance,  as  well  as  betting,  are  forbidden 
by  the  Koran.  A  point  is,  however,  usually  stretched 
in  allowing  the  loser  to  pay  for  the  cups  of  coffee.  In 
ma7ikaleh  the  player  backs  his  skill  more  than  his  luck, 
whereas  in  backgammon  the  throw  of  the  dice  brings 
in  a  large  element  of  chance.  A  strict  Mohammedan 
will  therefore  abstain  from  the  latter  game. 

As  the  day  declined,  more  customers  would  drop 
in,  and  by  the  time  the  lamps  were  lit  I  often  regretted 
that  my  hotel  table  d'hote  called  me  away  to  the 
Ismaeliyeh  quarter. 

The  light  from  the  primitive  lamps  piercing  a  blue 
atmosphere  of  smoke,  and  falling  on  the  groups  of 
figures  intent  on  their  games,  left  a  picture  in  my  mind 
which  I  hoped  might  not  be  dimmed  by  the  more 
commonplace  aspect  of  an  up-to-date  hotel. 

Perhaps,  after  all,  it  is  as  well  that  circumstances 
oblige  me  to  reside  away  from  that  part  which  I  regard 
as  the  true  Cairo.  Putting  aside  matters  of  health,  it 
is  a  loss  to  be  cut  off  from  one's  countrymen,  or  those 
of  other  countries  whose  mode  of  life  resembles  one's 
own.  Unless  a  man  can  take  his  wife  with  him,  he 
may  pass  months  without  seeing  a  woman's  face,  or 
exchanging  a  word  with  one  of  his  opposite  sex.  This 
has  been  my  experience  in  Upper  Egypt  and  while 
camping  in  the  desert,  where  the  woman  will  hide  away 
from  a  strange  man,  and  where  her  voice  will  never  be 
heard  except  she  be  screaming  at  one  of  her  children, 
or  in  altercation  with  a  neighbour.      The  servants  are 

82 


A    CAIRO    CAFE    AND    OTHER    MATTERS 

always  males,  and  the  food  bought  in  the  villages  is 
always  sent  by  a  man  or  a  boy.  If  I  strolled  in  to  see 
the  Omdeh  or  the  village  sheykh,  I  should  have  to  wait 
till  his  women-folk  were  well  out  of  the  way.  Their 
conversation  might  not  have  been  edifying  ;  but  was 
that  of  the  men  always  so  ?  Life  in  a  purely  Moham- 
medan country,  if  separated  from  wife  and  family,  is  a 
one-sex  existence. 

I  have  met  cultured  men  in  the  Near  East,  who  for 
long  periods  had  had  little  intercourse  with  those  of 
their  own  nationality,  and  I  noticed  how  ill  at  ease  they 
seemed  when  brought  in  contact  with  European  ladies 
and  gentlemen.  Life  was  strange  enough  away  from 
the  European  settlements  in  japan,  but  it  was  a  more 
complete  life.  Though  I  might  not  understand  a  word 
spoken  by  the  Okosan  or  the  7nousu7ne^  their  smiles  of 
welcome  were  perfectly  understandable. 

The  hotel  Villa  Victoria,  which  I  have  of  late  made 
my  headquarters  in  Cairo,  is  out  of  the  general  rush  of 
tourists,  and  is  frequented  by  many  who  are  at  times 
engaged  in  excavating,  or  are  in  some  way  connected 
with  the  Antiquities  Department.  There  are  also  per- 
manent guests  in  various  Government  Offices,  as  well 
as  others  whose  business  brings  them  in  contact  with 
things  Egyptian.  I  was  here  long  enough  for  acquaint- 
ance with  my  fellow-lodgers  to  ripen  into  friendship, 
and  besides  the  pleasure  of  their  company,  I  was  enabled 
to  pick  up  a  good  deal  of  information.  I  could  also 
stay  here  at  any  time  of  the  year,  whereas  most  of  the 
huge  caravansaries  put  up  their  shutters  when  the  tourist 
season  is  over. 

83 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

There  were  also  ladies  here  who  had  the  entree  into 
the  hareems  of  the  principal  houses,  and  though  they 
were  careful  not  to  give  away  what  is  not  intended  for 
general  discussion,  I  was  yet  able  to  get  some  idea  of 
the  life  which  is  led  in  the  '  prohibited  places.'  The 
interior  of  a  princely  home  in  Cairo  at  present  must 
resemble  that  of  a  large  Parisian  or  London  house, 
much  more  than  that  of  the  Sheykh  Saheime  which  I 
attempted  to  describe  in  a  former  chapter.  The  picture 
which  a  reception-room  in  the  hareem  conjures  up  in 
the  western  mind — of  love-sick  Zuleikas  sprawling  on 
cushioned  floors,  sighing  for  their  Selims  and  sucking 
sweets — may  be  safely  dismissed.  Diaphanous  divided 
skirts  no  more  conceal  their  lower  limbs,  nor  do  gold- 
braided  corsets  set  off  the  symmetry  of  their  figures. 
The  Parisian  modiste  '  a  change  tout  cela.'  To  us 
poor  males,  who  only  catch  a  sight  of  them  as  they 
drive  by  in  their  broughams,  they  look  still  as  oriental 
as  ever.  The  black  silk  habarah  entirely  covers  the 
'■  creation '  from  Paris,  and  the  coiffeur's  art  is  hid 
beneath  its  folds.  The  white  muslin  burko  veils  the 
face  except  the  eyes,  and  whether  these  veils  be  thinner 
than  formerly  I  cannot  say.  But  they  are  not  sufficiently 
thick  to  hide  completely  an  often  very  pretty  outline  of 
cheek  and  chin. 

My  informant  went  there  to  read,  or  hear  read,  the 
French  classics,  and  though  some  of  the  ladies  may 
have  felt  bored  with  extracts  from  Corneille,  I  was  told 
that  many  were  intelligently  interested.  For  fear  lest 
my  readers  might  take  Zohra  as  a  fair  specimen  of  an 
Egyptian  princess,  I  hasten  to  assure  them  that  she  was 

84 


A   CAIRO    CAFE    AND    OTHER    MATTERS 

as  great  an  exception  among  the  women   as  was  her 
illustrious  father  amongst  the  men  of  his  time. 

There  was  much  in  common  between  father  and 
daughter.  The  great  Pasha  let  nothing  stand  between 
himself  and  his  ambitions  ;  any  means  were  good  enough 
to  remove  those  who  obstructed  his  plans.  He  was  a 
brave  man  and  a  great  soldier,  and  yet  he  could  stoop 
to  treacherously  murdering  the  mameluke  Beys  and  their 
followers,  when  he  considered  his  rule  in  Egypt  was 
safer  without  them.  His  young  daughter  was  prepared 
to  sacrifice  any  one  who  might  thwart  her  in  her  mis- 
placed love  ;  and  the  form  of  madness  which  followed 
on  her  unsatisfied  desires  had  its  parallel  in  the  loss  of 
reason  by  her  father,  when  his  ambitions  to  found  a 
great  empire  were  not  realised.  He  is  reported  to  have 
had  eighty-five  children,  and  strange  it  is  that,  with  a 
family  of  such  dimensions,  the  succession  of  the  present 
Khedive  should  have  come  through  an  adopted  son. 
Therefore,  as  far  as  we  know,  there  is  no  blood  relation- 
ship between  the  actual  members  of  the  ruling  house 
and  Mohammed  Ali  and  his  descendants. 

It  is  pleasant  to  turn  from  Zohra  to  the  mistress  of 
a  princely  hareem,  who  is  now  a  great  lady  in  Cairo. 
Though  having  children  of  her  own,  she  still  finds 
room  in  her  affections,  as  well  as  in  her  palace,  to 
mother  many  little  girls  who  have  either  lost  or  have 
been  abandoned  by  their  parents.  She  not  only  gives 
them  a  good  education,  but,  as  children  by  adoption,  she 
keeps  them  until  suitable  husbands  are  provided  for 
them.      A  kinder  form  of  charity  is  hard  to  conceive. 

Entertainments  and   visits  from  lady  friends  are  of 

8S 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

constant  occurrence  in  the  wealthier  hareems  in  Cairo, 
though  the  Hfe  of  Egyptian  ladies  in  a  general  way 
must,  from  a  European  standpoint,  be  exceedingly  dull. 
Girl  schools  are  on  the  increase  as  well  as  home  instruc- 
tion ;  but  taking  the  whole  female  population  of  Egypt, 
it  is  barely  one  per  cent,  as  yet  who  can  either  read  or 
write.  The  percentage  among  men  is  low  enough — 
about  five  in  a  hundred  ;  but  as  the  enormous  majority 
of  Egyptians  are  peasants,  five  per  cent,  may  cover  those 
who  are  above  the  status  of  labouring  men. 

I  have  heard  the  complaint  from  educated  Moslems 
that  their  wives  were  poor  companions,  and  that  they 
therefore  spent  but  little  of  their  time  in  their  company. 
I  don't  know  what  else  they  could  expect.  The  fellaha 
woman  may  at  times  be  overworked,  but  her  existence 
seems  a  happier  one  than  that  of  many  of  her  wealthier 
sisters  in  their  enforced  idleness. 

A  fashionable  French  modiste  was  for  a  while  a 
guest  at  the  Villa  Victoria.  She  spent  her  time  running 
from  one  hareem  to  another,  getting  orders  for  the 
latest  things  in  hats.  As  some  of  these  hats,  at  the 
time  of  which  I  am  writing,  were  about  half  the  size 
of  a  billiard  table,  we  would  see  her  driving  to  her 
clients  nearly  lost  amongst  colossal  bandboxes.  For 
convenience  she  wore  her  chef-croetivre^  that  is  the 
biggest,  on  her  own  head,  and  she  would  sometimes 
return  crowned  with  a  smaller  one,  having,  as  she  told 
us,  disposed  of  the  masterpiece  in  one  of  the  hareems. 
We  were  curious  to  know  when  and  where  her  clients 
could  wear  them,  for  they  never  appeared  in  Cairo  with 
a  European  hat  on  their  heads.      '  Oh  !   mais  c'est  pour 

86 


A   CAIRO    CAFE   AND    OTHER    MATTERS 

Paris  ou  Vienne,'  she  said,  and  assured  us  that  they 
looked  '  bien  chics.' 

Just  think  of  it  ! — Zuleika  in  a  Paris  taxi  balancing 
one  of  these  shapeless  masses  of  millinery  on  the  top  of 
her  head  ! 

To  see  things  as  others  see  them  may  often  be  the 
wish  of  most  of  us.  I  have  never  felt  this  wish  stronger 
than  when  I  have  seen  some  old  village  sheykh  asking 
his  way  about  modernised  Cairo.  Some  evil  ginn  must 
have  raised  these  huge  blocks  of  buildings  which  house 
the  unbelievers.  Strange  things  to  help  them  on  their 
road  to  perdition  are  exposed  in  the  stores,  and  sheets 
of  some  invisible  material  which  his  eye  can  penetrate, 
but  which  resists  the  touch  of  his  hnger,  hang  before 
the  accursed  articles.  Cars  run  along  the  streets  with 
neither  an  ass  nor  a  camel  to  draw  them.  Sparks  which 
fly  from  beneath  the  wheels  and  overhead,  accompanied 
by  a  crackling  sound,  must  be  sure  evidence  of  the  cifrit 
who  drives  them.  Naserene  women  talk  in  a  strange 
language  to  men,  and  shamelessly  expose  their  faces  to 
all.  He  passes  a  large  modern  cafe,  and  sees  coreli- 
gionists unturbaned  and  dressed  as  the  Frank,  partaking 
ot  forbidden  drinks  and  disregarding  the  call  of  the 
mueddin,  which  alone  brings  a  ray  of  hope  to  the  poor 
sheykh.  He  hastens  to  the  mosques — it  is  some  way 
oiT,  for  mosques  are  few  and  far  between  in  this  godless 
part — he  makes  his  prostrations,  and  he  prays  to  Allah 
that  the  MuslemeeTi  may  come  by  their  own  again. 

After  he  has  rested  in  the  native  quarters,  and  he 
meditates  on  his  well-watered  helds,  he  may  wish  that 
some  of  his  prayers  be  not  too  literally  answered.      He 

87 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

may  still  remember  the  time  when  excessive  taxation 
robbed  his  people  of  the  fruits  of  their  labour,  and  scars 
may  yet  remain  on  his  back  of  the  Kurbcig  which  drove 
him  to  the  forced  labour. 

I  have  much  in  sympathy  with  the  old  sheykh, 
though  we  may  see  things  from  opposite  points  of  view. 
Were  the  old  town  not  being  slowly  robbed  of  its 
beauty  and  oriental  character,  I  might  feel  indifferent 
as  to  what  was  being  done  in  the  new,  for  my  object  in 
spending  so  many  seasons  in  Egypt  has  never  been  to 
paint  the  modern  city,  which  at  its  best  could  never 
equal  that  which  I  could  find  nearer  home.  The 
inconsistency  of  the  old  man's  prayer,  and  the  con- 
templations of  his  better  watered  fields,  finds  a  parallel 
in  my  regrets  that  the  old  order  gives  place  to  the  new ; 
while  I  am  certainly  not  indifferent  to  the  creature 
comforts  which  a  Europeanised  hotel  allows  me  to 
enjoy.  The  discomforts  I  have  endured  in  native  inns 
in  the  unfrequented  places  may  not  have  left  permanent 
scars  ;  but  they  would  recall  some  very  unpleasant 
experiences  had  not  the  interest  of  what  I  was  in  search 
of  given  them  a  back  seat  in  my  memory.  Apart  from 
this  selfish  point  of  view,  it  is  a  joy  to  know  that  the 
thousands  who  dwell  in  the  old  city  can  now  drink  an 
unpolluted  water,  that  their  sick  can  have  an  enlightened 
medical  treatment,  and  that  the  education  of  their  young 
is  at  present  adapted  to  a  useftal  citizenship. 

Our  countrymen  who  are  guiding  the  destinies  of 
Egypt,  and  who  are  honestly  working  for  the  betterment 
of  its  people,  are  not  primarily  responsible  for  the  un- 
suitable planning  of  the  modern  Cairo.      Ismael  Pasha's 

88 


THE  TOMB  OF  SHEVK.H   AKD-EL-DEYM 


A    CAIRO    CAFE    AND    OTHER    MATTERS 

boast,  '  L'Egypte  fait  partie  de  I'Europe,'  came  after 
the  remodelling  of  Alexandria,  and  since  the  time  when 
Clot  Bey  drew  the  plans  of  a  northern  city  to  be  built 
in  a  semi-tropical  country. 

From  what  I  hear,  this  unfortunate  example  is  being 
followed  in  Khartum,  which  is  well  inside  the  tropics. 
The  wide  sun-baked  streets  may  be  pleasant  to  those 
who  only  visit  it  during  the  short  winter  ;  but  they  who 
have  to  remain  there  during  the  long  summer  months 
may  long  for  the  shady  lanes  which  wind  amongst  the 
habitations  of  the  ancient  parts  of  Cairo.  The  well-to- 
do  in  the  mediaeval  city  were  not  obliged  to  migrate  to 
Europe  during  the  hottest  season,  as  the  clients  of  our 
modiste  feel  now  constrained  to  do. 


M 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE  COPTIC  CONVENTS  OF  WADI  NATRUN 

AMONGST  the  guests  who  halted  at  the  Villa 
2^"^^  Victoria,  it  was  my  good  fortune  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  Mr.  Palmer-Jones,  an  enthusiastic 
architect  who  had  measured  up  some  of  the  early  Coptic 
convents,  and  had  also  reconstructed  on  paper  dynastic 
buildings  of  which  little  but  the  plan  is  at  present 
traceable.  He  was  making  preparations  for  a  journey  to 
Wadi  Natrun  to  continue  his  work  at  the  old  convents 
which  are  dotted  about  that  valley. 

During  a  stay  in  Professor  Garstang's  camp  at 
Abydos,  a  few  years  ago,  my  interest  in  what  concerns 
the  Copts  had  been  considerably  excited,  while  I  painted 
in  the  Coptic  settlement  which  is  a  mile  or  two  distant 
from  Seti's  temple.  Although  these  convents  are  of 
recent  date  compared  to  far-off  pharaonic  times,  a 
period  of  fifteen  centuries  has  nevertheless  elapsed  since 
many  of  them  have  been  built.  They  also  have  this, 
which  gives  them  a  human  interest  above  the  earlier 
shrines,  and  that  is  their  preservation  of  the  uses  for 
which  they  were  founded.  Many  are  now  no  more 
than  a  heap  of  ruins  ;  but  there  yet  remains  a  good 
number  still  inhabited  by  monks,  and  where  the 
Christian  liturgy  of  the  early  centuries  is  still  repeated 
in  the  chapels. 

90 


THE  CONVENTS  OF  WADI  NATRUN 

When  Mr.  Jones  kindly  proposed  that  I  should  join 
him  in  his  expedition,  I  was  not  long  in  making  up 
my  mind  to  do  so.  His  preparations  took  longer 
than  mine,  for  he  had  to  procure  a  camp  outfit  for  a 
stay  in  the  desert,  a  good  distance  from  the  rest-house 
where  he  and  I  proposed  to  spend  a  week  together.  I 
could  not  afford  the  time  to  accompany  him  further 
afield,  and  a  week  of  desert  air  I  hoped  would  suffice 
to  shake  off  the  evil  effects  of  a  touch  of  influenza. 

It  took  over  a  week  to  get  an  answer  from  the 
manager  of  the  Salt  and  Soda  Company,  in  whose  rest- 
house  we  proposed  to  stay,  although  he  wrote  by  return 
of  post  telling  us  we  could  come.  The  distance  was 
within  a  hundred  miles  from  Cairo;  but  postal  arrange- 
ments are  not  expeditious  in  the  desert. 

The  delay  gave  me  time  to  paint  the  street  which 
has  been  reproduced  as  an  illustration  to  this  book. 
The  noise  and  dust,  as  well  as  the  importunities  of  the 
inquisitive,  made  me  long  for  the  quiet  and  the  fresh 
air  of  the  desert.  A  change  of  work  and  of  interests 
now  and  again  is  wholesome,  and  should  but  little  work 
be  the  result  of  my  expedition,  the  interest  and  the 
fresh  air  would  compensate  me  for  any  loss  of  time. 

We  started  at  midday  by  a  train  which  runs  along 
the  edge  of  the  Libyan  desert,  just  outside  the  cultivation 
area,  and  not  far  from  the  western  bank  of  the  Rosetta 
branch  of  the  Nile.  This  is  the  Behera  line,  and  if 
any  one  could  be  found  with  sufficient  patience,  he 
could  reach  Alexandria  by  one  of  its  trains,  and  cover 
rather  less  ground  than  by  the  main  route.  After  a 
crawl  along  the  fringe  of  the  desert  for  some  seventy 

91 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

miles  in  a  north-westerly  direction,  the  train  strikes  into 
the  Delta,  and  joins  the  main  line  at  Teh  el-Barud. 
Fortunately  we  could  leave  it  after  a  thirty-mile  crawl, 
at  a  station  called  el-Khatatbeh.  We  were  met  here  by 
the  agent  of  the  Salt  and  Soda  Company,  and  invited  to 
wait  in  his  house  until  the  steam-tram  would  take  us  to 
the  rest-house.  This  runs  twice  a  week,  and  carries 
coal  and  other  necessaries  to  the  works.  When  the 
passenger  carriage  had  been  coupled  on  to  the  trucks, 
we  started  on  this  novel  desert  journey. 

There  seemed  something  sinister  in  the  name  of 
our  destination — '  The  Valley  of  Natron.'  It  lay  in  the 
direction  of  the  reddening  sky,  and  seemed  somehow  to 
recall  a  valley  with  which  Bunyan  has  made  us  familiar. 
The  '  Lacus  Asphaltites,'  as  classical  atlases  call  the 
Dead  Sea,  is  a  name  which  in  a  similar  way  brought 
passages  of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress  back  to  me,  when 
years  ago  I  took  a  journey  to  Jericho.  The  engine, 
which  pluckily  dragged  us  into  the  increasing  darkness, 
breathed  sparks  of  fire  into  the  clouds  of  smoke.  Was 
it  the  mystery  of  the  desert  that  got  hold  of  me  ?  The 
fire  and  smoke  which  snorted  from  the  funnel  of  the 
little  engine  brought  Apollyon  clearly  back  to  my 
mind. 

I  have  passed  months  on  end  in  the  desert,  and  yet 
that  awe  which  it  inspires  at  sundown  never  leaves  me. 

For  three  hours  we  continued  our  course  through 
the  dreary  waste.  A  crescent  moon  revealed  an 
interminable  series  of  low  sand-hills  ;  broken  flints 
caught  its  light  and  looked  like  the  reflections  of  the 
stars  on  a  billowy  sea.      Though  our  horizon  was  not  a 

92 


THE  CONVENTS  OF  WADI  NATRUN 

distant  one,  the  sense  that  we  might  have  continued 
in  our  present  direction  for  more  than  two  thousand 
miles  impressed  us  with  the  immensity  of  the  great 
Sahara. 

The  quickened  pace  of  our  train  told  us  that  we  had 
reached  the  depression  where  the  series  of  natron  lakes 
lies.  Before  we  came  to  a  standstill  my  illusions  had 
vanished  into  thin  air.  A  smell  of  caustic  soda,  and 
the  sight  of  the  works,  of  the  coal  trucks,  the  shunting 
cabin,  and  as  we  got  nearer,  that  of  the  men  in  greasy 
overalls,  carried  me  away  from  the  Sahara,  and  set  me 
down  near  some  north-country  manufacturing  village. 

We  were  met  by  the  manager  of  the  rest-house,  and 
some  natives  (who  might  have  hailed  from  Wednesbury 
from  their  get-up)  shouldered  our  luggage  while  we 
picked  our  way  to  a  long  one-storied  building  we 
could  see  outlined  against  the  starlit  sky. 

It  had  turned  very  cold,  as  it  often  does  in  the 
desert,  even  after  a  baking  hot  day.  I  blessed  the  whole 
of  the  Salt  and  Soda  Company,  Limited,  for  having 
provided  a  good  stove  in  the  rest-house  sitting-room, 
and  I  poured  more  blessings  on  the  Italian  manager, 
who  soon  announced  the  dinner.  What  with  our  long 
fist  and  the  keen  desert  air,  we  were  able  to  do  full 
justice  to  the  padrone's  efforts.  We  asked  him  if  he 
could  hire  us  donkeys  to  take  us  to  the  convents  the 
following  morning.  'Leave  it  to  me,'  he  said,  'and  you 
shall  have  them  at  whatever  hour  you  like.'  We 
decided  on  half-past  seven,  and  were  promised  that 
they  should  be  there  to  the  minute.  We  were  up  with 
the   lark,  and  ready  to  start  at  the  appointed  time  ;   but 

93 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

we  might  scan  the  horizon  and  never  a  donkey  could 
we  see,  and  the  padrone  was  as  invisible  as  the  donkeys 
he  had  promised.  After  waiting  an  hour,  I  proposed 
our  walking  down  to  the  works  to  make  inquiries. 
Amongst  a  number  of  natives,  who  all  knew  nothing 
about  donkeys — never  seemed  to  have  heard  of  such 
things — I  noticed  a  fellow-countryman.  He  was  stir- 
ring a  bubbling,  oily-looking  liquid  in  a  huge  caldron. 
'  Look  out,  sir,'  he  cried,  '  a  drop  of  this  '11  burn  right 
through  your  clothes,  and  if  you  step  on  it,  your  boots 
won't  be  worth  sixpence.' 

The  pot  being  sufficiently  stirred  and  the  lid  duly 
adjusted,  the  man  stepped  over  to  where  I  had  retreated, 
and  seemed  pleased  to  be  able  to  talk  in  his  own 
language  again.  He  was  a  genial  fellow,  and  was  pre- 
pared to  tell  me  all  I  might  wish  to  know  about  natron. 
I  got  on  the  subject  of  donkeys  as  soon  as  I  could,  and 
learnt  from  him  that  the  only  three  donkeys  (excluding 
the  padrone)  which  the  company  possessed,  were  pro- 
bably down  at  the  salt-pits.  I  explained  that  I  did  not 
expect  to  use  the  Company's  donkeys,  but  understood 
that  we  could  hire  some.  I  then  learnt  that  there  were 
none  nearer  than  el-Khatatbeh. 

Later  on  the  manager  of  the  works  appeared,  and  I 
got  Jones  to  introduce  me  to  him.  After  thanking  him 
for  letting  me  use  the  rest-house,  I  told  him  my  diffi- 
culties. All  he  could  do,  he  kindly  told  us,  would  be 
to  send  the  trolley  to  the  rail-head,  and  from  thence  we 
should  have  to  walk  to  the  convents,  as  no  donkeys 
were  available  that  day.  Ibrahim,  my  friend's  servant, 
put  our  lunch  and  materials  on  to  the  trolley,  and  as 

94 


THE  CONVENTS  OF  WADI  NATRUN 

soon  as  the   mule  was  harnessed,  off  we  went  to  the 
rail-head. 

A  thin  black  line  on  my  map  of  Northern  Egypt  is 
drawn  from  the  great  Sahara,  through  this  part  of  the 
Libyan  desert,  till  it  reaches  Cairo.  It  then  winds 
along  the  valleys  of  the  Arabian  desert,  and  disappears 
out  of  the  map  just  north  of  Suez.  About  the  spot 
where  our  trolley  now  runs  the  map  describes  this  line 
as  Derh  el-Hagg  el-Meghdrbe^  that  is,  the  '  Pilgrim's 
Way  of  the  Westerns.'  Within  a  space  of  twenty  miles 
on  this  route  stand  four  Christian  convents,  two  of 
which  we  then  saw  outlined  against  the  sky.  They 
stood  there  before  this  desert  tract  was  first  used  by 
Moslem  pilgrims  on  their  way  to  Mekka  ;  and  until 
the  Behera  railway  was  opened,  this  same  track  was 
followed  by  the  monks  on  their  journeyings  to  and 
from  Cairo. 

It  was  not  an  unfrequented  route  even  before  the 
early  Christians  settled  here.  The  mineral  alkali,  which 
these  marshes  produce,  was  known  and  used  while 
Memphis  was  the  capital  city  of  Egypt. 

Salt,  extracted  from  the  poisonous-looking  marshes 
below  us,  lay  in  hillocks  on  each  side  of  the  little  tram- 
way, as  we  neared  its  termination.  During  the  first 
mile  of  our  tramp  to  the  nearest  convent  the  ground 
looked  as  if  it  were  covered  with  hoar-frost.  It  crackled 
under  our  feet  as  would  thin  ice,  and  I  longed  to  reach 
the  sandy  plain  on  the  higher  level.  The  wintry 
appearance  of  this  uninviting  tract  of  land  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  hot  sun  which  beat  down  on  us. 
The   sandy  plain,  when  we  reached  it,  may  have  been 

95 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

pleasant  to  our  eyes,  but  it  was  infinitely  more  trouble- 
some to  walk  over.  We  sank  ankle  deep  at  every  step 
we  took,  and  I  now  realised  why  the  '  Pilgrim's  Way  ' 
ran  through  the  plague-stricken-looking  stretch  which 
we  had  crossed. 

As  we  neared  our  objective,  the  Der  Amba-Bishai, 
it  looked  more  and  more  like  a  mediaeval  fortress  than 
a  retreat  for  the  religious.  Its  massive  outer  walls  now 
masked  the  little  domes  seen  from  a  greater  distance. 
Hungry  Moslem  pilgrims  journeying  to  Mekka  might 
have  proved  unwelcome  visitors  to  the  handful  of 
Gubti  monks  within,  and  some  recent  repairs  of  the 
walls  were  probably  done  more  for  security  than  from 
any  sense  of  tidiness.  The  gateway  was  large  and 
imposing  ;  but  the  door  itself  was  small  and  sufficiently 
recessed  to  be  defended  through  the  loopholes  in  the 
projecting  jambs. 

We  were  glad  to  rest  in  the  shadow  of  the  walls 
till  we  managed  to  get  admitted  into  the  convent. 
Repeated  pulls  at  the  bell-rope  seemed  to  have  no 
effect,  though  the  noise  broke  violently  the  stillness  of 
the  desert.  Ibrahim  then  picked  up  a  big  stone,  and 
using  it  as  a  battering-ram  against  the  door,  explained 
that  the  sound  would  reach  further  than  that  of  the 
bell  which  hung  outside  from  the  wall.  His  exertions 
finally  had  some  effect.  A  shutter  was  slid  back  from 
an  iron  grating  in  the  door,  and  a  voice  called  out, 
'  Who  's  there  ? ' 

We  explained  our  errand  to  the  man  inside  with 
the  persuasiveness  of  those  addressing  one  in  an  advan- 
tageous position.      The  stupid  face  at  the  grating  had 

96 


THE  CONVENTS  OF  WADI  NATRUN 

no  expression  but  that  of  suspicion  ;  a  slight  look  of 
intelligence  showed  itself  when  the  word  baksheesh  was 
whispered,  and  we  were  told  that  the  Prior  must  first 
be  consulted. 

The  man  returned  after  a  while,  and  we  heard  him 
remove  a  heavy  stone  from  behind  the  door.  Heavy 
wooden  bars  had  then  to  be  unfastened,  and  alter 
several  attempts  to  unfasten  the  lock,  the  old  door 
creaked  back  on  its  rusty  hinges.  An  angular  passage, 
through  the  square  tower  of  the  gateway,  led  us  into  a 
spacious  court,  in  the  centre  of  which  stood  the  church 
and  the  monastic  dwellings.  Most  of  the  latter  were 
in  a  woeful  state  of  disrepair,  and  in  some  cases  they 
had  completely  fallen  in.  A  well  and  a  hg-tree,  as 
well  as  some  green  vegetables,  showed  that  this  court 
might  have  been  made  into  a  garden.  This  was  a 
proof  of  the  lethargic  state  of  the  monks,  for  the 
Egyptians  as  a  rule  will  turn  any  ground  into  a  garden 
if  only  water  be  available. 

We  were  received  by  the  Prior  in  a  bare  and  once 
whitewashed  room,  with  a  wooden  bench  round  the 
walls.  After  the  usual  salutations,  he  ordered  coffee, 
and  even  produced  cigarettes  ;  but  argue  as  long  as  we 
liked,  he  would  not  give  us  permission  to  sketch  in  the 
convent.  The  permission  my  friend  had  got,  from  the 
Patriarch  in  Cairo,  mentioned  the  other  convents,  and 
not  the  one  we  were  in  ;  we  should  be  allowed  to  see 
the  church,  but  no  sketching  was  to  be  done. 

As  Jones  had  worked  here  during  the  previous 
winter  with  a  permit  from  the  Patriarch,  and  had 
required    ladders   and   other   help  to  do    his   measuring 

N  97 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

up,  he  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  get  an  authorisation 
merely  to  make  a  few  sketches  at  present.  I  suspected 
ill-will  more  than  mere  stickling  about  these  formalities 
was  the  cause  of  this,  so  I  proposed  that  we  should 
have  a  look  at  the  church,  and  then  go  oft  to  the 
neighbouring  convent. 

The  most  aggravating  part  was  that  the  little  church 
was  picturesque  in  the  extreme.  Its  whitewashed  walls 
and  vaulted  roof  emphasised  the  rich  colouring  of  the 
primitive  altar.  I  have  been  in  the  inner  sanctuaries  of 
wellnigh  every  Egyptian  temple,  and  have  entered  most 
of  the  mosques  of  Cairo  ;  but  never  had  I  been  more 
impressed  with  the  sentiment  of  any  than  with  that 
of  this  rude  place  of  Christian  worship.  I  longed  to 
sit  down  and  paint  it  ;  no  '  treatment '  would  be  re- 
quired, for  the  composition  was  perfect.  Should  I  go 
back  and  offer  the  Prior  a  bakshees/i  ?  I  even  meditated 
on  hov/,  '  to  save  his  face,'  I  might  pretend  it  was  for 
the  upkeep  of  the  chapel.  On  Jones  suggesting  that 
the  church  in  the  other  convent  might  suit  my  purpose 
as  well,  we  decided  to  take  our  departure. 

We  were  told  that  the  coffee  was  now  ready  for  us, 
and  were  asked  to  return  to  the  parlour.  My  irritation 
at  not  being  allowed  to  paint  was  increased  by  the  fleas 
which  had  got  at  my  ankles,  and  I  neither  wished  to 
see  the  Prior  again  nor  touch  his  coffee.  Though 
Ibrahim  had  the  Moslem's  poor  opinion  of  the  Copts, 
he  implored  me  not  to  refuse  the  coffee,  as  it  would  be 
such  an  insult  to  the  whole  convent.  Ibrahim  did  not 
want  to  paint,  and  he  was  probably  less  sensitive  than  I  to 
the  fleas,  so  he  could  view  the  matter  in  a  calmer  frame 

98 


THE  CONVENTS  OF  WADI  NATRUN 

of  mind.  I  saw,  however,  that  he  was  right,  so  we 
went  and  sipped  our  coffee,  made  our  salaams  to  the 
Prior,  tipped  the  tatterdemaHon  of  a  lay-brother  who 
had  let  us  in,  and  were  once  more  in  the  outside 
world. 

While  writing  these  lines,  and  missing  the  ac- 
companying illustration  of  the  chapel  which  might 
have  fitted  in  so  well  here,  I  feel  mean  for  having 
drunk  that  coffee. 

It  took  us  less  time  to  gain  admittance  to  the  next 
convent,  which  was  separated  from  its  neighbour  by 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  Its  outward  appearance  was 
much  the  same  as  the  other,  it  having  been  built  about 
the  same  period  and  under  the  same  conditions.  The 
dwellings  and  church  also  formed  a  group  in  the  centre 
of  the  enclosure,  and  though  somewhat  different  in 
plan,  it  had  nevertheless  much  the  same  character.  A 
spreading  sycamore-tree,  with  a  goat  and  one  or  two 
sheep  lying  in  its  shade,  gave  the  place  a  less  dead-alive 
look  than  had  its  neighbour,  though  the  same  signs  of 
neglect  and  decay  were  visible  everywhere. 

As  we  turned  the  angle  of  the  main  building,  an 
expression  of  disgust  escaped  my  friend.  What  we  saw 
was  disgusting  enough,  but  not  quite  sufficiently  so  to 
account  for  my  friend's  expression, as  he  is  the  least  demon- 
strative of  men.  A  new  erection  between  two  wings  of 
the  earlier  work  had  been  run  up  by  some  builder  whose 
architectural  taste  was  of  the  cafe  cha7itaTit  order.  It 
was  already  in  a  state  of  disrepair,  which  failed  to  give  it 
a  look  of  respectable  age,  but  was  merely  a  sign  of  bad 
material  and  still  worse  workmanship. 

99 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

I  told  Jones  what  a  pity  it  was  that  they  had  not 
asked  him  to  desicjn  somethincj  which  would  have  been 
in  keeping  with  the  rest  of  the  convent,  and  I  was 
answered  that  not  only  had  he  done  so,  but  that  he  had 
also  gone  carefully  into  the  cost  of  the  building,  and 
had  given  them  his  services  for  nothing.  What  had 
been  run  up  during  the  preceding  summer  must  have 
cost  more  than  if  his  designs  had  been  carried  out,  for 
workmen  must  have  been  got  from  Cairo  to  do  the 
tawdry  ornamentation. 

We  were  shown  into  this  place,  with  a  certain 
amount  of  pride,  by  the  monk  who  conducted  us.  The 
Prior  was  having  his  post- prandial  sleep,  and  we  were 
asked  to  make  ourselves  at  home  till  he  came  to  receive 
us.  We  begged  that  he  might  not  be  disturbed  just 
yet,  and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  have  our  lunch  in  the 
meantime.  It  was  now  about  two  o'clock,  and  our 
breakfast  in  the  early  dawn  seemed  a  long  way  off.  We 
had  a  hen  and  a  brood  of  chicks  as  company  in  this 
new  reception-room.  The  hen  seemed  to  appreciate 
the  samples  of  our  lunch  which  fell  her  way,  and  her 
clucking  brought  more  poultry  to  join  the  company. 
The  monk  appeared  quite  indifferent  to  the  mess  they 
made,  and  he  squatted  on  the  floor  and  conversed  with 
Ibrahim.  He  would  not  join  us  in  our  food,  but  he 
willingly  helped  us  with  a  bottle  of  wine  we  had 
brought. 

Before  we  had  finished,  a  very  old  man  shuffled  into 
the  room  from  a  neighbouring  apartment,  and  muttered 
some  greeting.  We  rose  to  meet  him  and  to  explain 
our  errand.      Jones   tried  to  recall  to  his  mind  the  days 

too 


THE  CONVENTS  OF  WADI  NATRUN 

he  had  spent  there  during  the  previous  winter  ;  but 
whether  the  old  man  had  any  recollection  of  this  or 
not  his  blank  expression  did  not  reveal.  He  wore  a 
brown  woollen  habit,  such  as  the  first  Christians  who 
settled  here  would  have  worn,  and  a  great  rent  in  the 
garment  showed  that  this  was  all  he  had  on.  He  did 
not  wish  to  see  the  Patriarch's  authorisation  for  us  to 
work  here  ;  all  things  pertaining  to  this  world  seemed 
indifferent  to  him.  He  gave  a  shiver  as  if  he  felt  the 
air  passing  through  the  rent  in  his  garment,  and  shuffled 
out  to  sit  on  the  doorsteps  in  the  sun. 

I  made  signs  to  Ibrahim  to  get  a  spirit-flask  from 
out  the  basket  and  offer  some  to  the  old  man,  who 
mechanically  accepted  it,  and  drank  it  down.  This 
seemed  to  revive  him  a  little,  and  he  passed  the  cup  to 
have  it  refilled.  Ibrahim  gave  him  a  second  dose,  and 
asked  him  his  age.  Not  getting  an  answer  that  we 
could  understand,  the  second  monk  told  us  that  he 
must  be  more  than  a  hundred  years  old.  The  poor  old 
man  looked  it,  and  that  was  probably  the  only  data 
which  the  other  monk  had. 

The  church  was  very  interesting,  and  a  more  im- 
portant structure  than  the  previous  one  ;  but  so  dimly 
lighted  that  we  had  to  wait  till  our  eyes  got  used  to 
the  gloom  before  we  could  distinguish  anything.  Two 
or  three  minute  windows  in  the  vaulting  admitted  the 
only  light.  As  our  eyes  got  used  to  the  gloom,  the 
dilapidated  condition  of  everything  became  more  notice- 
able ;  some  grease  marks  on  the  floor,  beneath  the  few 
hanging  lamps,  seemed  all  the  evidence  of  the  place 
having  been  used  in  recent  times. 

lOI 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

I  started  a  drawing  of  an  interesting  subject,  one 
which  might  have  consoled  me  for  my  disappointment 
in  the  other  convent  had  I  been  able  to  see  more  clearly 
what  I  was  about.  The  heykel^  which  corresponds  to  a 
chancel,  was  not  here  divided  from  the  nave  by  the 
wooden  screen  common  to  most  Coptic  churches,  but 
by  a  wall  reaching  to  the  vaulted  roof.  A  high  door- 
way was  in  the  centre  surmounted  by  a  wooden  grating, 
through  which  we  could  trace  the  outlines  of  the  Coptic 
cross,  and  a  curtain,  as  is  usual,  hung  in  the  place  of  the 
door  itself.  A  massive  dresser  stood  to  the  left  of  the 
doorway,  and  a  lectern  slightly  to  the  right.  Rude 
Byzantine  paintings  hung  from  the  top  of  the  dresser, 
and  an  ikon  of  the  Virgin  and  Child  was  fixed  above 
the  curtain. 

The  afternoon  being  far  advanced,  I  hoped  I  might 
do  better,  with  more  light,  on  the  following  morning. 
It  was  a  long  weary  tramp  we  had  back  to  the  rest- 
house,  for  no  trolley  awaited  us  at  the  rail-head,  in  spite 
of  the  most  solemn  promises  that  it  should  be  there. 
We  were  more  fortunate  the  next  day,  as  the  donkeys 
were  kindly  lent  us,  and  we  were  able  to  be  back  at  the 
convent  in  fairly  good  time. 

Though  I  was  in  the  church  nearly  the  whole  day, 
I  witnessed  no  service,  and  remarking  on  this  to  Jones, 
he  told  me  that  during  the  weeks  he  had  worked 
there  he  could  never  remember  one  having  taken 
place. 

What  on  earth  had  the  eight  other  monks  who 
resided  here  to  do  ?  They  were  supplied  with  corn 
and  beans  by  the  charity  of  others,  and  all  initiative  to 

102 


THE  CONVENTS  OF  WADI  NATRUN 

do  anything  for  themselves  seemed  to  have  left  them 
during  their  lethargic  existence.  Possibly,  when  the 
dust  of  the  old  Prior  will  have  returned  to  the  dust 
of  the  desert  around  him,  some  one  younger  and 
more  energetic  may  put  some  life  into  the  Sleepy 
Hollow. 


CHAPTER    X 

THE  MOSQUE  OF  ES-SALIH  TALAI 

I  RETURNED  to  Cairo  little  the  richer  in  artistic 
material,  but  feeling  much  the  better  for  the  few 
days  of  desert  air.  Though  Cairo  stands  on  the 
fringe  of  a  desert,  the  three-quarters  of  a  million  of  its 
inhabitants  are  bound  to  vitiate  its  air,  and  they  have 
certainly  polluted  its  soil.  No  drainage  system  as  yet 
carries  off  the  sewage  from  the  main  part  of  the  native 
city,  where  the  dust  is  often  laid  by  the  slops  emptied 
on  the  roadway.  It  is  true  that  the  Ta?izim  employs  a 
large  number  of  scavengers ;  but  their  efforts  are  chiefly 
confined  to  the  modern  quarters,  where  there  is  some 
hope  of  dealing  with  so  difficult  a  task.  The  Arab's 
ideas  as  to  road-cleaning,  when  he  is  left  to  himself,  is 
to  sweep  the  dust  about  rather  than  to  clear  it  away  ; 
the  scavenger  is  therefore  the  greatest  nuisance  of  all 
the  nuisances  the  sketcher  has  to  contend  with.  When 
taken  unawares,  a  sweep  from  one  of  these  idiots' 
brooms  may  cover  with  dust  your  drawing  and  your  pallet 
before  you  can  stop  him  or  get  out  of  his  way.  Were 
it  not  for  the  sun,  which  sterilises  this  dust,  a  large 
population  could  never  have  existed  here. 

Cairo  is  unpaintable   during   the   few  grey  days  of 
midwinter,  and  perhaps  this  is  just  as  well,  for  when 

104 


ARAB  SCHOOL 


THE    MOSQUE    OF    SALIH 

the  Great  Germicide  does  not  shine,  the  place  must  be 
very  unhealthy.  An  overcast  sky  often  drove  me 
into  the  mosques,  where  I  could  spend  my  time  in 
drawing  my  subject,  until  the  warm  reflections  from 
the  sunlit  court  should  make  me  feel  instinctively  for 
my  pallet. 

I  flattered  myself  that  few  nooks  and  corners  existed 
in  the  old  city  which  I  had  not  explored,  till  I  turned 
up  a  narrow  lane  outside  the  Bab  Zaweyla  and  found 
myself  in  the  ruinous  court  of  a  delightful  old  mosque. 
It  is  extraordinary  that  I  should  have  overlooked  this 
during  the  many  seasons  I  have  spent  in  Cairo.  The 
lane  is  called  Haret  es-Salih,  and  the  mosque  servant 
informed  me  that  this  was  the  mosque  of  Salih.  Who 
this  Salih  might  be  was  more  than  the  servant  could 
tell- — he  had  not  been  there  more  than  twenty  years — 
should  it  be  a  mosque  called  after  the  founder  of  the 
mameluke  dynasty,  its  date  could  not  be  earlier  than 
the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century.  There  is  much 
remaining  which  suggests  an  earlier  period,  both  in  the 
plan  and  in  the  construction  of  the  arches  ;  the  foliated 
background,  to  the  Kufic  lettering  which  decorates 
these  arches,  seemed  hardly  in  keeping  with  the  work 
of  the  orthodox  Moslems  who  succeeded  the  Fatimid 
dynasty. 

I  looked  up  all  the  Salihs  who  crop  up  in  Stanley 
Lane-Poole's  Story  of  Cairo — a  handy  little  volume, 
published  by  Messrs.  Dent  and  Co.,  which  no  visitor  to 
Egypt  should  fail  to  get — and  I  succeeded  in  placing 
him  as  Talai  ibn-Russik,  who  on  his  accession  to 
power  styled   himself  el-Melik  es-Salih,      He   was   the 

o  105 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

last  but  one  of  the  Fatimid  khalifs,  and  he  built  this 
mosque  in  1160,  the  sixth  year  of  his  reign. 

There  is  little  now  remaining  of  all  that  was  built 
in  the  enclosure  which  Gawhar  pegged  out  as  the  site 
of  el-Mo'izz's  '  guarded  city  '  ;  the  small  mosque,  el- 
Akmar,  happily  still  exists  and  enables  students  to  study 
the  less  restricted  forms  of  decoration  which  the  Sheea 
heresy  permits.  The  boundaries  of  el-Kahira  were  con- 
siderably extended  during  the  two  centuries  of  Fatimid 
rule  ;  the  three  great  gates  and  Hakim's  mosque  remain 
as  specimens  of  the  work  of  that  period,  and  they  also 
mark  the  limits  of  the  extended  city. 

It  was  outside  the  walls  of  the  Cairo  of  those  days 
where  Talai  ibn-Russik  built  his  mosque,  and  it  remained 
for  Saladin,  who  succeeded  the  Fatimid  khalifs,  to  yet 
further  enclose  and  bring  this  mosque  well  within  the 
walls  of  his  enlarged  capital. 

The  entrance  is  through  a  gateway  supporting  the 
minaret,  which  latter  is  probably  of  a  later  period  than 
the  rest  of  the  building.  The  colonnade,  which  sur- 
rounded three  sides  of  the  square  court,  has  almost 
disappeared,  as  well  as  parts  of  the  enclosing  wall. 
The  liwdti^  which  is  the  subject  of  the  accompanying 
illustration,  is  still  intact.  Kept  sufficiently  in  repair 
so  as  to  prevent  its  falling  down,  it  has  never  suffered 
the  hand  of  the  renovator  to  sweep  out  every  trace 
of  the  mellowing  influence  of  near  eight  centuries  of 
use. 

An  ugly  wooden  fence  enclosed  it  from  the  court, 
but  I  was  able  to  see  enough  through  the  palings  to 
paint  it  as  if  this  disfigurement  were  not  there.      The 

106 


THE    MOSQUE    OF    SALIH 

court  is  on  a  higher  level  to  the  Itwdn  owing  to  the 
accumulation  of  rubbish  which  has  not  been  cleared 
away,  and  this  accounts  for  the  high  horizon  in  the 
picture.  It  also  enabled  me  to  see  less  of  the  exasperat- 
ing fence.  Though  still  used  as  a  place  of  worship  on 
Fridays,  it  serves  as  a  school  during  the  rest  of  the  week. 
The  young  students  squatting  on  the  matting  and  com- 
mitting to  memory  verses  of  the  Koran  form  picturesque 
groups,  and  the  little  crowd  around  the  rostrum  of  the 
teacher  centralises  the  subject. 

The  scenes  are  on  a  smaller  scale  than  those  which 
may  be  witnessed  any  day  at  the  Azhar,  or  University 
Mosque.  The  latter  has  been  so  over-restored,  and  not 
always  in  a  judicious  manner,  that  I  have  never  been 
tempted  to  paint  there.  The  students  here  are  mostly 
lads,  and  are  either  preparing  for  the  university  or  are 
the  children  of  parents  who  may  not  approve  of  the 
modernised  form  of  instruction  at  the  Khedivial  schools. 
As  in  all  purely  Arab  schools,  the  training  is  almost 
entirely  confined  to  exercising  the  memory  rather  than 
the  development  of  the  reasoning  faculties.  It  is  often 
quite  sufficient  qualification  for  a  teacher  to  know  his 
Koran  by  heart,  so  that  he  can  detect  any  mistakes  in 
the  verses  which  he  hears  his  scholars  repeat.  As  every 
lad  repeats  aloud  what  he  tries  to  learn  by  heart,  the  noise 
is  easily  imagined.  There  seems  little  restraint  ;  the  lads 
nibble  at  their  lunch  or  buy  drinks  from  the  lemonade- 
seller  when  it  pleases  them  ;  those  to  whom  the  teacher's 
back  is  turned  may  indulge  their  liking  for  jnankalah 
or  any  other  games  easily  secreted  under  their  cloaks  ; 
and  had  it  not  been  for  the  powerful  lungs  of  Mansoor, 

107 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

most  of  the   scholars  would  have  taken  up  a  position 
around  my  easel. 

When  the  clouds  dispersed  and  the  further  angle  of 
the  court  formed  a  warm  sun  pocket,  the  greater  number 
would  leave  the  liisodii  and  repeat  their  verses  in  the 
warmth.  Mansoor's  work  of  keeping  the  lads  away  from 
me  then  became  more  arduous.  He  found  an  ally  in 
the  mosque  servant,  and  when  gentle  persuasion  failed 
more  drastic  measures  were  used.  The  noise  in  the 
court  did  not  in  the  least  seem  to  disturb  the  good- 
natured  teacher,  and  when  he  left  his  rostrum  he  would 
come  and  have  a  look  at  the  work  I  was  doing. 

I  came  here  many  times,  for  not  only  did  the  drawing 
and  detail  of  this  subject  take  up  several  long  mornings, 
but  I  had  a  second  one  on  hand  of  which  these  lads  in 
the  sun  made  the  foreground.  That  they  should  be 
curious  to  see  what  I  had  made  of  them  was  natural 
enough,  so  I  gave  them  an  opportunity  of  satisfying 
their  curiosity  before  I  packed  up  to  go.  In  sketching 
a  group  of  figures  which  is  constantly  on  the  move,  the 
head  of  one  may  be  suggested  on  the  body  of  another 
who  may  have  moved  away.  This  seemed  to  perplex 
my  spectators  considerably.  When  Ahmed  had  identi- 
fied his  kiiftan  or  galabieh^  Seleem  would  point  out  the 
head  as  belonging  to  himself.  A  good  stare  at  me  to 
see  if  any  signs  of  the  evil  one  were  visible  would  follow  : 
if  some  afrft  had  not  assisted  me  in  this  uncanny  work, 
how  else  was  it  to  be  explained. 

As  mornings  begun  in  sunshine  may  turn  to  grey  in 
winter,  or  the  other  way  about,  my  having  two  good 
subjects  in  the  same  place  was  a  great  advantage,  for 

108 


THE    MOSQUE    OF    SALIH 

though  a  reflected  sunHght  improved  my  liwdn^  I 
could  nevertheless  find  plenty  of  detail  to  draw  while 
the  sky  was  overcast.  '  Good  gracious  ! '  it  actually 
rained  one  morning,  and  with  my  drawings  I  joined  in 
the  rush  for  shelter  under  the  arches.  Volunteers  to 
carry  my  belongings  were  numerous,  but  Mansoor  would 
only  allow  some  privileged  youngster  to  carry  my  stool. 
The  teacher  would  drone  out  the  verses  of  the  Fcithah 
quite  regardless  of  the  disturbance. 

The  profession  o{  ^.Jikee  is,  I  am  told,  not  a  lucrative 
one.  A  half-piastre,  i.e.  five  farthings,  per  week  per 
pupil  used  to  be  his  earnings,  though  this  may 
have  increased  slightly  with  the  general  increase  of 
wages.  If  we  consider  his  intellectual  equipment  and 
compare  it  with  that  of  a  schoolmaster  at  home,  it  is 
possible  that  the  pay  of  the  Jikee  may  compare  very 
favourably.  They  often  eke  out  this  miserable  pittance 
by  reading  a  chapter  of  the  Koran  in  the  houses  of  the 
well-to-do.  One  recently  '  killed  two  birds  with  one 
stone '  by  posing  as  a  model  to  me,  while  he  also 
repeated  the  Fcithah.,  outside  the  entrance  to  a  hareem. 
I  am  afraid  that  some  giggling,  which  I  could  hear 
through  the  mushrhiyeh.,  may  have  been  caused  by  my 
attempt  at  portraiture.  I  turned  my  easel  towards  the 
wooden  grating  to  satisfy  a  legitimate  curiosity  which 
might  possibly  have  been  excited  in  the  '  prohibited 
place.'  The  giggles  developed  into  loud  laughter.  I 
rather  fancied  my  sketch,  and,  in  spite  of  this  unfavour- 
able criticism,  I  still  fail  to  see  anything  funny  in  it. 
T\\Q.  Jikee  turned  out  to  be  as  big  a  fraud  as  most  of  the 
natives  whom  I  have  induced  to  pose  to  me.     The  value 

109 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

of  time  becomes  enormous  to  any  loafer  who  poses  for  an 
hour,  and,  according  to  iKx^Jikee^  it  might  have  been  as 
valuable  as  that  of  a  Harley  Street  specialist.  Some 
feminine  jeers,  heard  through  the  miish-biyeh^  hastened 
his  departure. 

According  to  Lane  the  schoolmasters  in  Egypt  are 
mostly  persons  of  very  little  learning  ;  few  are  acquainted 
with  any  writings  except  the  Koran  and  certain  prayers, 
which,  as  well  as  the  contents  of  the  sacred  volume, 
they  are  hired  to  recite  on  particular  occasions.  It  is 
fair  to  say  that  the  Egypt  of  Lane  is  the  Egypt  of  full 
seventy  years  ago.  Under  the  advisership  of  Mr.  Dunlop 
and  his  staff  of  able  school-inspectors,  a  sound  education 
on  enlightened  lines  is  now  obtainable  even  in  the 
smallest  towns  for  the  children  whose  parents  can  or 
will  afford  the  fees  of  the  Khedivial  schools.  But  the 
kuttcib^  as  the  poorer  and  purely  Mohammedan  schools 
are  called,  seem  to  have  drifted  into  a  backwater,  and 
are  little  influenced  by  the  stream  of  enlightenment 
which  flows  past  them. 

The  story  Lane  tells  of  a  yf i^^  of  his  time  might  still 
apply  to  present-day  teachers  in  some  of  the  villages, 
and  may  be  worth  repeating  here  :  '  I  was  lately  told 
of  a  man  who  could  neither  read  nor  write  succeeding 
to  the  office  of  a  schoolmaster  in  my  neighbourhood. 
Being  able  to  recite  the  whole  of  the  Koran,  he  could 
hear  the  boys  repeat  their  lessons  ;  to  write  them,  he 
employed  the  areef  (or  head-boy  and  monitor  of  the 
school),  pretending  that  his  eyes  are  weak.  A  few 
days  after  he  had  taken  upon  himself  this  office,  a  poor 
woman  brought  a  letter  for  him  to  read  to  her  from  her 

no 


THE    MOSQUE    OF    SALIH 

son,  who  had  gone  on  pilgrimage.  Theyfi^^  pretended 
to  read  it,  but  said  nothing  ;  and  the  woman,  inferring 
from  his  silence  that  the  letter  contained  bad  news,  said 
to  him,  "Shall  I  shriek?"  He  answered,  "Yes."  "Shall 
I  tear  my  clothes  ?  "  she  asked  ;  he  replied,  "  Yes."  So 
the  poor  woman  returned  to  her  house,  and  with  her 
assembled  friends  performed  the  lamentation  and  other 
ceremonies  usual  on  the  occasion  of  a  death.  Not 
many  days  after  this  her  son  arrived,  and  she  asked  him 
what  he  could  mean  by  causing  a  letter  to  be  written 
stating  that  he  was  dead  ?  He  explained  the  contents 
of  the  letter,  and  she  went  to  the  schoolmaster  and 
begged  him  to  inform  her  why  he  had  told  her  to 
shriek  and  tear  her  clothes,  since  the  letter  was  to 
inform  her  that  her  son  was  well,  and  he  was  now 
arrived  at  home.  Not  at  all  abashed,  he  said,  "  God 
knows  futurity.  How  could  I  know  that  your  son 
would  arrive  in  safety  ?  It  is  better  that  you  should 
think  him  dead  than  to  be  led  to  expect  to  see  him  and 
perhaps  be  disappointed."  Some  persons  who  were 
sitting  with  him  praised  his  wisdom,  exclaiming,  "Truly, 
our  new  Jikee  is  a  man  of  judgment  !  "  and  for  a  little 
while  he  found  that  he  had  raised  his  reputation  by 
this  blunder.' 

I  must  refrain  from  quoting  from  that  fund  of 
knowledge.  Lane's  Man?iers  a7id  Customs  of  the 
Modern  Egyptians^  for  since  it  has  been  so  ably  edited 
by  Mr.  Ernest  Rhys,  it  has  been  placed  within  the 
reach  of  every  one  by  Messrs.  Dent  in  the  '  Everyman's 
Library  '  series. 

As  my  view  of  the  mosque  is  from  the  court,  there 

1 1 1 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

was  no  objection  to  my  painting  there  during  the  duhj- 
or  midday  service  on  Fridays.  I  was  much  tempted 
to  make  that  my  subject,  but  I  refrained  from  doing  so, 
as  I  have  done  that  subject  once  or  twice  before.  The 
ritual  has  become  more  famiHar  to  me,  and  I  was  able 
to  follow  better  what  was  going  on. 

The  mosque  servant,  who  often  helped  my  man  to 
keep  off  the  boys  during  the  week-days,  increased  in 
importance  on  Fridays  (which,  I  need  hardly  inform 
my  readers,  correspond  to  our  Sundays).  Half  an  hour 
before  noon  the  jmieddm  ascends  the  minaret  and  chants 
the  selcim  from  one  of  the  balconies.  This  is  not  the 
acld?i  or  ordinary  call  to  prayer,  but  a  salutation  to  the 
Prophet,  the  adciji  being  called  a  little  after  the  noon. 
The  worshippers  soon  arrive,  for  there  are  the  ablutions 
to  be  performed  before  they  take  their  seats  in  the 
liwd?i.  A  reader,  in  the  meanwhile,  ascends  the 
rostrum  facing  the  prayer-niche  or  viirhab^  and  begins 
reciting  the  '  Soorat  el-Kahf,'  which  is  one  of  the 
chapters  in  the  Koran.  Each  worshipper  drops  his 
slippers  before  he  steps  on  to  the  matting,  and  places 
them  sole  to  sole  next  to  where  he  sits  down.  He 
performs  two  prostrations  and  then  sits  patiently  till 
the  add?i  is  called  from  the  minaret,  when  the  recita- 
tion of  the  soorat  ceases.  During  this  call  the  whole 
congregation,  which  faces  the  prayer-niche,  kneels 
instead  of  sitting  cross-legged  as  hitherto.  On  the 
last  syllable  of  the  addji  every  man  rises  and,  holding 
his  hands,  palm  outwards,  close  to  his  ears,  he  repeats 
the  '  Allahu  Akbar '  which  has  descended  from  the 
minaret.      He   then  makes   the   various   prostrations   of 

I  I  2 


THE  BLUE  MOSQUE 


THE    MOSQUE    OF    SALIH 

the  7'eka/i^  repeating  the  same  words  at  each  difFerent 
posture,  and  concludes  with  the  salutations  to  the 
Prophet. 

The  murakkee  (who  was  no  other  than  the  mosque 
servant  and  my  ally  of  the  courtyard)  then  proceeded 
to  open  the  folding-doors  of  the  pulpit,  and  took  a 
wooden  sword  from  behind  them,  and  holding  it  with 
its  point  to  the  ground,  he  also  repeated  the  salutation. 
From  a  raised  platform  (known  as  the  dikkeh^  and 
standing  at  the  entrance  to  the  liwd?i)  an  officiant 
now  chants  the  praises  of  Mohammed.  The  servant 
then  recites  each  verse  of  the  addn^  and  they  are  re- 
peated in  a  sonorous  voice  by  the  man  on  the  dikkeh. 
During  this  the  khateeb^  as  the  preacher  is  called, 
advances  to  the  pulpit,  and  taking  the  sword  from  the 
murakkee^  he  slowly  ascends  the  steps,  and  reaching  the 
top  one,  he  waits  till  the  recital  is  concluded. 

The  preacher  stands,  holding  the  sword  point 
downwards,  and  delivers  his  address  in  a  solemn  and 
effective  manner  to  his  congregation,  who  sit  rapt 
in  attention. 

No  special  vestments  are  worn  by  those  who 
officiate,  and  the  ordinary  robes  of  a  sheykh  seem 
perfectly  appropriate.  The  sword,  the  only  object 
used  in  the  simple  ritual,  is  to  remind  the  hearers 
that  Islam  was  spread  by  the  sword  and  that  by  its 
power  it  should,  if  necessary,  still  be  maintained. 
Little  outward  reverence  is  shown  to  the  mosque,  as 
such,  at  ordinary  times,  for  I  have  seen  it  used  as  a 
convenient  place  to  sleep  in  during  the  heat  of  the 
day,  and  the  playing  amongst  its  columns  of  lads  during 

p  113 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

the  intervals  of  their  tasks  strikes  no  one  as  unseemly 
behaviour.  But  at  the  call  to  prayer  the  demeanour 
of  all  present  is  strikingly  reverent. 

I  have  worked  in  a  great  number  of  mosques  and 
must  have  seen  thousands  of  men  attending  the  services, 
but  I  don't  recall  having  seen  half  a  dozen  worshippers 
in  any  other  but  the  native  dress.  Now  that  all  the 
youth  of  the  country,  who  attend  the  Khedivial  schools 
or  have  of  late  years  passed  through  their  classes,  adopt 
the  European  garb  ;  that  the  numerous  employees  in 
the  government  and  other  offices  have  all  forsaken  the 
native  dress — is  it  not  strange  that  a  trousered  Moslem 
should  hardly  ever  be  seen  inside  a  mosque  unless  he 
goes  there  merely  as  a  spectator  ?  The  effendi^  a  title 
loosely  given  to  every  native  in  European  dress  and 
tarboiich^  feels,  I  'm  sure,  ill  at  ease  amongst  his  co- 
religionists when  the  services  of  his  religion  are  being 
held.  The  devout  Moslem  views  the  western  garb  as 
*  a  mark  of  the  Beast.'  This  is  felt  so  strongly  in 
Morocco,  that  should  a  Moor  appear  in  coat  and 
trousers,  his  co-religionists  would  tear  them  off  him. 

The  encouragement  given  in  Egypt  to  the  adoption  of 
western  clothes  is  a  fatal  mistake.  The  courteous  manners 
of  the  oriental  seem  to  leave  him  with  his  csist-o^  kuftdn  ; 
his  morals  are  distinctly  worse  when  the  ties  of  his  creed 
are  loosened  ;  and  the  Christian  missionary  knows  well 
enough  that  the  westernised  Egyptian  is  not  a  fertile 
soil  for  the  Gospel  seed.  We  must  not  flatter  ourselves 
that  our  hold  on  Egypt  is  in  any  way  strengthened  by 
this  silly  fashion  ;  we  have  only  to  attend  a  nationalist 
demonstration   to    see    how  the  trousered  effendi  out- 

114 


THE    MOSQUE    OF    SALIH 

numbers  the  robed  Egyptian.  Should  the  sword  of 
the  preacher  unhappily  be  held  aloft  and  a  holy  war 
proclaimed  from  every  pulpit,  this  European  veneer 
would  vanish  like  smoke,  and  the  effendi  would  revert 
to  the  garb  of  the  sheykh. 

During  my  first  season  in  Egypt  I  painted  a  crowd  of 
young  students  at  the  entrance  of  one  of  the  Khedivial 
schools.  The  lads  were  all  robed  and  turbaned,  and 
whatever  their  social  positions  may  have  been,  each 
individual  looked  a  dignihed  young  gentleman.  When 
next  I  visited  Cairo  all  this  was  changed.  The  kiiftdn 
and  the  gibbeh  were  replaced  by  sweated  tailor  goods 
from  some  Greek  departmental  stores.  I  felt  a  per- 
sonal dislike  to  the  whole  education  department,  and 
especially  to  the  British  Adviser.  I  am  glad  to  add 
that  I  have  since  learnt  that  our  countrymen  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  It  was  the  Egyptian  officials 
who  inaugurated  the  change.  Education  has  made 
such  advances  since  the  British  occupation,  through 
the  efforts  of  a  hard-working  and  certainly  not  over- 
paid British  staff,  that  I  am  glad  to  know  that  I  was 
not  justified  in  attributing  to  it  so  foolish  a  blunder. 


CHAPTER    XI 

THE  BLUE  MOSQUE  AND  KASR-ESH-SHEMA 

I    HAVE   never   passed   a   season    in    Cairo   without 
making  a  study  of  some  sort  in  the  Blue  Mosque. 
There  are  many  mosques  of  much  greater  archi- 
tectural pretensions,  as  well  as  of  more  historical  interest ; 
but  so  long  as  artists  continue  to  flock  to  Egypt  in  search 
of  subjects,  so  long  will  the  Blue  Mosque  serve  them  for 
material.     On  entering  the  blue-tiled  liwdn  after  a  tramp 
through  the  glare  and  the  dust  of  the  open  spaces  around 
the  citadel,  something  of  the  pleasure  is  experienced  of 
him  who,  after  a  desert  journey,  first  rests  his  eyes  on 
the  green  of  cultivation.      The  pleasure  is  as  much  a 
physical  as  an  intellectual  one,  for  the  hot  season  draws 
one  there  far  more  than  does  the  cold.      The  tempera- 
ture would  be  no  higher  were  the  walls  a  scarlet,  but 
I  'm  sure  it  would  be  more  felt  ;  and  this  is  not  only 
so  to  those  whose  training  inclines  them  to  search  out 
beautiftil  colour,  for  I  have  observed  that  more  people 
come  here  to  sleep  through  the  heat  of  the  day  than  to 
any  other  mosque. 

The  actual  structure  was  raised  by  a  certain 
Aksunkur  during  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, and  many  much  finer  mosques  of  that  period 
are  still  remaining.      It  was  restored  more  than  three 

ii6 


THE    BLUE    MOSQUE 

centuries  later  by  Ibrahim  Agha,  and,  whatever  the 
purist  may  have  to  say  to  the  contrary,  it  is  these 
restorations  which  give  the  charm  to  the  place. 

Blue  tiles  cover  the  whole  wall  of  the  vast  liwdn  ; 
from  the  matted  pavement  to  the  spring  of  the  vaulting 
they  spread  around  the  prayer-niche  till,  high  up,  they 
reach  the  ribbing  of  the  dome.  This  was  a  great 
undertaking  of  Ibrahim  Agha,  for  though  the  tiles 
were  not  worth  the  fincy  prices  of  the  present  day, 
it  must  have  been  a  very  costly  affair  even  in  his  time. 
The  domed  chapel,  containing  the  tomb  of  the  founder, 
is  more  beautiful  still,  but  it  is  almost  too  dark  to  make 
painting  a  possibility. 

The  look  of  neglect  and  gentle  decay  is  not  depress- 
ing, as  in  many  a  Cairene  building  which  lies  under 
the  sentence  of  complete  renovation  or  of  a  total 
collapse.  Some  structural  repairs  have  lately  been  made, 
which  were  doubtless  badly  needed  ;  but  I  hope  it 
may  stop  at  that.  The  Moslem  has  all  he  wants  now 
for  his  frequent  prayers  or  his  midday  nap,  and  no 
renovation  of  the  mosque  would  ever  compensate  for  the 
loss  of  its  present  charm. 

The  mosques  of  Cairo  can  be  an  endless  source  of 
instruction  to  any  one  interested  in  the  builder's  art, 
their  number  is  so  great  (over  four  hundred)  and  they 
are  so  varied  in  character  ;  they  suit  their  surroundings 
as  if  they  had  grown  into  the  spaces  they  occupy,  and 
those  who  worship  there  look  as  if  they  had  been  grown 
for  that  purpose. 

Interesting  as  are  the  temples  of  ancient  Egypt,  they 
have  not  the   human   interest  of  the  Cairene  mosques. 

117 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

Old  and  decrepit  as  the  latter  may  be,  the  beauty  of 
life  is  still  there  ;  the  temple  at  its  best  has  but  the  beauty 
of  a  corpse.  The  restoration  of  the  mosques,  if  well 
done,  as  happily  is  often  the  case  here,  may  rob  them 
of  some  temporary  charm,  but  it  preserves  to  the  people 
a  valuable  heritage  ;  whereas  the  restored  temples  will 
merely  give  future  generations  something  to  laugh  at. 

What  temple  is  grander  than  Tulun's  mosque  ?  Or 
in  which  of  them  did  the  builder's  art  excel  that  of  the 
Sultan  Hassan  ?  Yet  how  few  visit  these  mosques 
compared  with  the  crowds  who  are  rushed  through  the 
temples  of  Upper  Egypt.  The  one  of  all  others  which 
every  tourist  is  taken  to  see  is  the  mosque  of  Mohammed 
Ali,  which  crowns  the  citadel  heights.  It  is  imposing 
from  its  magnificent  position  ;  but  who  ever  leaves  it 
with  any  higher  thought  than  of  the  money  which  has 
been  lavished  on  it  ? 

An  appreciative  guide  to  the  mosques  may  now  be 
found  in  Douglas  Sladen's  Orie?itaI  Cairo^  and  to  do 
here  inadequately  what  he  has  done  so  well  is  not  the 
purpose  of  these  pages. 

If  so  much  enjoyment  is  to  be  got  out  of  the  study 
of  Saracenic  structures,  what  about  the  early  Christian 
churches  ?  They  provide  less  aesthetic  entertainment 
than  do  the  mosques,  solely  because  their  number  is 
very  much  more  restricted.  But  where  in  this  wide 
world  can  any  one  interested  in  the  dawn  of  Christianity 
find  a  spot  to  appeal  more  to  his  sympathies  than  in 
the  seven  Coptic  churches  which  cluster  round  the  old 
fortress  of  Babylon  ?  Concealed  as  they  are  from  public 
view,  one  enters  their  precincts  with  much  the  same  feel- 

ii8 


KASR-ESH-SHEMA 

ings  as  on  entering  the  catacombs  of  Rome.  Within 
the  walls  of  this  Christian  settlement,  dark  and  narrow 
passages  lead  to  the  unobtrusive  interiors  of  the  churches. 
The  search  for  the  doorkeeper,  and  when  he  is  found, 
the  primitive  key  with  which  he  unbolts  the  ponderous 
lock,  and  the  man's  dress,  which  twelve  centuries  of 
Mohammedan  rule  has  not  altered,  all  tend  to  take 
one  back  to  the  days  when  in  these  hidden  places  the 
shrines  of  Abu-Sarga  and  of  Kadisa- Barbara  were  raised. 

The  first  of  these  two,  which  is  more  familiar  to  us 
as  Saint  Sergius,  is  usually  visited  before  the  others.  It 
dates  from  the  tenth  century,  when  the  more  tolerant 
rule  of  the  first  Fatimid  khalifs  would  allow  of  its 
construction  ;  but  it  stands  on  the  site  of  a  church  of 
a  very  much  earlier  date.  The  crypt  of  its  predecessor 
still  remains,  and  this  takes  one  back  to  the  times  when 
Memphis  stood  where  some  rubbish  hills  now  only 
mark  its  site  on  the  western  banks  of  the  Nile  ;  when 
Bab-li-On  was  in  truth  the  southern  gate  of  On,  the 
'  City  of  the  Sun,'  of  which  nothing  now  is  visible  but 
the  obelisk  of  Heliopolis. 

A  tree  marks  the  spot  where  the  Virgin  and  the 
child  Jesus  are  said  to  have  rested.  It  is  about  a  mile 
this  side  of  the  obelisk,  and  some  fifteen  miles  from 
the  fortress  of  Babylon  which  the  Romans  built  on 
the  site  of  the  gate  of  On,  and  whose  name  it  retained. 
Tradition  has  it  that  near  this  tree  the  Virgin  bathed 
her  child  in  some  brackish  water,  and  this  becoming 
sweet,  the  pilgrims  to  this  day  drink  of  that  fountain. 
Tradition  helps  us  to  trace  the  journey  of  the  Holy 
Family  from  this  tree  to  the  crypt  below  the  church  of 

119 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

Abu-Sarga,  for  it  tells  us  of  another  resting-place  about 
midway,  and  that  is  Joseph's  well  on  the  citadel  hill. 

We  are  taken  down  some  dilapidated  steps  to  visit 
the  crypt,  which  we  are  told  was  the  Egyptian  house  of 
Joseph  and  Mary  while  they  hid  their  child  from 
Herod's  wrath.  Needless  to  say  that  the  crypt  is  a 
Christian  structure,  and  of  a  later  date  than  the  Roman 
fortress,  which  at  its  earliest  is  placed  in  the  second 
century  of  our  Lord.  But  there  is  no  reason  why  this 
spot  should  not  have  been  chosen  by  the  Holy  Family 
after  their  flight  into  Egypt.  Some  ruined  shrine  to  a 
god  of  the  decadent  mythology  may  have  stood  here  in 
which  they  may  have  made  their  home,  as  the  early 
Christians  oftentimes  did  some  three  centuries  later. 
To  build  a  church  on  so  hallowed  a  spot  would  have 
been  the  first  thought  of  these  Christians,  if  any  record 
still  remained.  When  Babylon  was  besieged  by  the 
Mohammedan  invaders,  this  church  might  have  then 
been  destroyed,  or  if  it  survived  so  long  a  siege,  it  would 
have  disappeared  after  Merwan,  the  last  of  the  Omayyad 
khalifs,  had  set  fire  to  Fostat. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  it  is  quite  probable  that  this  pretty 
tradition  has  some  foundation  in  fact. 

There  is  little  at  present  to  see  in  the  crypt  by  the 
light  of  the  tallow  dip  which  the  Coptic  servant  holds 
in  his  fingers,  but  I  should  have  regretted  not  to  have 
seen  that  little.  The  tenth-century  church  above  it  is 
a  little  gem,  and  however  much  the  dirt  of  those  who 
attend  it,  and  the  formal  ritual  which  few  of  the 
worshippers  can  understand,  may  prejudice  one  against 
the  modern  Copts,  the  fact  remains  that  their  faith  has 

1 20 


KASR-ESH-SHEMA 

withstood  centuries  of  persecution.  Stanley  Lane-Poole 
wisely  remarks  that  '  no  one  can  stand  unmoved  in  a 
Coptic  church  during  the  celebration  of  the  Mass,  or 
hear  the  worshippers  shout  with  one  voice,  just  as  they 
did  some  fifteen  hundred  years  ago,  the  loud  response, 
"  I  believe  this  is  the  Truth,"  without  emotion.' 

The  whole  of  the  Coptic  settlement  here  is  built 
within  the  girdle- wall  of  the  Roman  castle  of  Babylon, 
or  'el-Kasr-esh-Shema,'  as  the  natives  still  call  it.  This 
Arabic  name,  '  The  Castle  of  the  Sun,'  emphasises  the 
position  it  held  in  regard  to  ancient  Heliopolis,  of  which 
it  was  a  bulwark.  We  also  hear  mention  of  this  esh- 
Shema  in  the  prophecies  of  Jeremiah  xliii.  13  :  '  He  shall 
break  also  the  images  of  Beth-shemesh,  that  is  in  the 
land  of  Egypt  ;  and  the  houses  of  the  gods  of  the 
Egyptians  shall  he  burn  with  fire.' 

Perched  up  between  two  bastions  of  the  Roman 
castle,  and  over  its  gate,  is  the  Mu'allaka  or  the  'hanging' 
church.  Less  rich  in  traditions  than  its  neighbour,  with 
some  of  its  romance  destroyed  by  a  modern  approach,  it 
gives  the  intelligent  visitor  even  greater  pleasure  than 
Abu-Sarga  which  he  has  seen.  He  may  confuse  its 
plan  with  that  of  the  neighbouring  churches,  and  time 
may  obliterate  the  construction  of  its  piers  and  barrel- 
shaped  roof,  but  never  will  he  forget  the  little  Byzantine 
pulpit  standing  on  the  fifteen  slender  Saracenic  columns, 
and  relieved  against  as  rich  a  screen  as  ever  closed  in  a 
sanctuary. 

I  have  attempted  to  enter  into  more  of  the  details 
of  these  Coptic  churches  in  Below  the  Cataracts^  also 
of  the  history  of  Fostat,  the  '  Town  of  the  Tent,'  which 

Q  121 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

Amr  Ibn  el-As  built  around  the  fortress  of  Babylon, 
and  which  during  successive  dynasties  of  khalifs  was 
extended  until  it  covered  the  space  now  occupied  by 
the  old  city  of  Cairo.  The  topography  and  history  has 
been  admirably  given  to  us  by  Stanley  Lane-Poole  ; 
students  of  early  Christian  architecture  can  find  all  that 
is  known  of  the  Coptic  churches  in  that  scholarly  work 
of  Dr.  A.  J.  Butler,  The  A?icient  Coptic  Churches  of 
Egypt. 

I  cannot,  however,  refrain  from  mentioning  the 
'  hanging  garden '  which  adjoins  the  Mu'allaka.  The 
palms  which  grow  there,  high  above  the  fertilising  Nile, 
are  watered  by  the  faithful  to  perpetuate  the  tradition 
that  the  Virgin  Mary,  on  arriving  at  her  new  abode,  first 
broke  her  fast  with  some  dates  which  she  culled  from  a 
palm-tree  growing  near  this  spot. 

Four  more  Coptic  churches  are  within  easy  reach  of 
this  one,  and  as  parts  of  them  date  back  to  the  third 
century,  there  is  much  to  occupy  the  time  of  the  archae- 
ologist even  if  the  artist  does  not  always  find  what  is 
best  suited  to  his  brush. 

The  fortress  of  Babylon  and  the  Coptic  settlement 
within  its  walls  are  two  or  three  miles  south-west  of  the 
main  part  of  the  city,  and  situated  at  the  back  of  an  old 
suburb,  opposite  the  island  of  Rodah,  known  as  Old 
Cairo.  This  name  is  misleading,  for  the  present  mediaeval 
Cairo  existed  long  before  this  suburb,  which  was  built 
on  land  recovered  from  the  Nile  after  Fostat  had  become 
a  ruinous  waste.  It  looks  old  enough  now,  but  it  does 
not  require  many  generations  to  impart  an  ancient 
appearance  to  the  poorer  Arab  dwellings. 

122 


KASR-ESH-SHEMA 

The  Kasr-esh-Shema,  on  the  higher  level,  is  that 
part  which  might  justly  be  called  Old,  for  it  is  the 
nucleus  from  which  the  present  huge  city  developed. 

There  are  also  several  Coptic  churches  in  Cairo 
proper,  and  one  in  Beyn  es-Sureen,  near  the  Armenian 
Church,  is  said  to  be  the  oldest  in  Egypt,  and  conse- 
quently one  of  the  earliest  churches  in  Christendom. 
A  portion  of  the  Copts,  who  have  joined  communion 
with  the  Roman  Catholics,  have  their  church  close  by. 
I  saw  a  great  deal  of  their  priest,  and  of  some  leading 
members  of  his  community,  while  I  spent  a  summer 
in  a  village  on  the  Lebanon.  They  had  gone  there 
partly  for  their  health  and  partly  to  escape  the  hottest 
months  of  the  Egyptian  summer.  The  priest  was  a 
very  different  type  of  man  intellectually  from  the 
lethargic  monks  I  met  in  the  convents  at  Wadi  el- 
Natrun.  I  am  indebted  to  him  for  much  information 
about  the  Catholic  churches  in  the  Near  East.  He  had 
been  prepared  for  Holy  Orders  in  Rome,  although  he 
and  his  community  are  under  allegiance  to  the  Pope, 
and  do  not  call  themselves  Roman  Catholics,  but 
members  of  the  Coptic  Catholic  Church,  while  they  are 
very  tenacious  of  the  privileges  which  they  secured 
when  they  seceded  from  the  main  body  of  the  Copts. 
The  priests  are  allowed  to  marry,  and  also  to  say  Mass 
in  the  obsolete  Coptic  language.  My  friend  told  me 
that  though  allowed  to  marry  if  he  wished  to  do  so,  he 
had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  Latin  Church  was 
right  in  enforcing  celibacy  on  its  clergy.  '  No  !  no  ! 
no  ! '  from  the  ladies  who  were  present  at  our  conversa- 
tion, shows  that  my  friend's  views  were  not  popular. 

1 23 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

Similar  privileges  have  been  allowed  to  the  other 
members  of  eastern  Christian  churches  when  they  sub- 
mitted to  the  Church  of  Rome.  It  is  the  exception 
when  their  priests  go  to  a  theological  college  at  Rome, 
and  the  great  majority  evidently  do  not  hold  my  friend's 
views  on  matrimony,  for  few  remain  single. 

As  only  the  Church  of  Rome  repeats  the  Mass  in 
Latin,  it  might  have  been  expected  that  the  eastern 
churches  under  her  authority  would  have  made  use  of 
languages  understood  by  their  congregations.  But  this 
is  not  so.  No  Copt  can  understand  the  Coptic  liturgy 
which  he  hears  repeated  ;  only  a  few  cultured  Syrian 
Maronites  can  follow  the  Syriac  Mass,  and  the  Catholic 
Greeks,  the  Armenians,  and  the  Chaldeans  all  hear  the 
liturgy  in  languages  long  obsolete. 

My  friend  could  follow  the  meaning  of  the  Coptic 
phrases  he  daily  used ;  but  apart  from  these,  Coptic  is  a 
dead  language  to  him.  He  kindly  repeated  the  Lord's 
Prayer  to  me,  and,  with  possibly  an  Arabic  accent,  his 
words  must  have  sounded  the  same  as  those  in  use  in 
the  days  of  the  Ptolemies.  A  few  Coptic  words  have 
still  survived  and  are  in  use  amongst  the  peasantry  of 
Upper  Egypt,  and  possibly  philologists  may  discover 
some  in  the  colloquial  Arabic  of  the  Delta.  It  is  in 
Upper  Egypt  that  we  still  find  the  type  portrayed  in 
the  ancient  sculptures,  amongst  the  Moslems  as  well  as 
the  Christians  ;  but  in  the  Delta  the  Copt  shows  his 
ancestry  more  conspicuously,  as  the  Moslems  amongst 
whom  he  dwells  have  there  a  greater  admixture  of  Arab 
blood.  I  was  very  much  struck  with  the  resemblance 
a  Coptic  gentleman,  who  was  staying  at  the  same  inn 

124 


KASR-ESH-SHEMA 

as  myself,  bore  to  the  celebrated  '  Sheykh-el-Beled,'  the 
fifth  dynasty  statue  in  the  Cairo  museum.  He  was 
younger  and  not  as  stout  as  the  statue,  but  he  might 
have  passed  for  a  younger  brother.  The  broad  nose 
and  full  lips,  the  rather  prominent  cheek-bones,  and  a 
slight  upward  inclination  of  the  eyes  from  the  nose, 
were  all  there  as  in  his  prototype  of  some  sixty  centuries 
ago.  I  remarked  to  him  that  while  we  were  savages 
his  forebears  were  the  greatest  people  in  the  world.  His 
answer  was,  '  Yes  ;  and  now  you  are  the  greatest  people 
in  the  world,  while  we  are  the  savages.'  Lane  remarks 
that  the  Egyptian,  in  answering  a  question,  is  more 
likely  to  say  what  he  thinks  may  be  agreeable  to  his 
hearer  than  to  stick  to  the  absolute  truth.  This  looked 
rather  like  it. 

I  have  heard  our  missionaries  accused  of  deceiving 
the  subscribers  to  the  missions,  by  stating  the  numbers 
of  their  converts  and  not  specifying  whether  these  con- 
verts were  from  Islam  or  were  merely  Copts  who  had 
changed  from  one  form  of  Christianity  to  another.  If 
this  is  true,  the  subscribers  might  justly  feel  that  they 
had  been  deceived.  But  I  should  like  further  proof  of 
this  accusation  before  accepting  the  truth  of  it  ;  the 
tendency  of  Europeans  in  the  East  is  to  believe  any- 
thing which  may  discredit  the  missionary.  That  Islam 
is  a  barrier  which  the  missionary  has  so  far  failed  to 
break  through  is  true  enough,  and  missionaries  whom 
I  have  met  have  been  the  first  to  admit  this.  Can  one 
wonder,  then,  that  they  turn  from  so  barren  a  soil  to 
sow  their  seed  amongst  the  Copts,  who  have  shown 
some  tendency  to  receive  it  ?      The  faith  of  the  Copts 

125 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

has  sustained  them  through  centuries  of  persecution  ; 
but  it  is  amazing  how  stagnant  a  faith  may  sometimes 
hold  a  people  together. 

When  I  think  of  those  lazy  monks  at  Wadi  el- 
Natriin  ;  their  neglected  chapels  ;  their  barren  gardens, 
though  water  was  there  had  they  the  energy  to  draw  it  ; 
I  marvel  how  this  people  has  ever  risen  to  be  a  power 
in  Egypt.  That  they  are  a  power  to  be  reckoned  with 
we  have  lately  seen.  The  common  mistake  of  judging 
a  people  from  a  few  specimens  who  are  forced  into  one's 
notice  is  evident  here.  A  very  much  larger  proportion 
of  them  are  literate  compared  with  the  Moslem  Egyptians, 
and  they  fill,  in  consequence,  a  much  larger  proportion 
of  situations  where  some  instruction,  other  than  that  of 
the  Koran,  is  necessary.  The  grievance  they  are  venti- 
lating is  that  they  do  not  get  their  share  of  the  highly 
salaried  government  posts,  and  as  far  as  I  could  ascertain, 
they  have  a  subject  of  complaint.  Their  numbers  will 
probably  increase  largely,  now  that  persecution  no  more 
drives  their  weaker  brethren  into  the  folds  of  Islam. 
They  are  fervent  in  business  if  they  do  not  always 
serve  the  Lord,  and  some  have  accumulated  great 
wealth. 

The  black  and  sometimes  the  blue  turban,  which 
distinguishes  them  from  the  Mohammedans,  was  origin- 
ally forced  on  them  with  other  and  more  vexatious 
enactments  ;  they  still  wear  it,  however,  though  of 
course  free  to  put  on  what  they  like.  The  women 
used  to  wear  the  face  veil  when  out  of  doors,  more  as  a 
protection  than  as  an  ordinance  of  their  religion,  and  at 
present  most  of  them  have  discarded  it. 

126 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE  SPHINX,  AND  A  DISSERTATION  ON 
TOMMY  ATKINS 

I  WELL  remember  how  sentiment  was  shocked  when 
it  was  proposed  to  construct  a  tram-Hne  to  the 
Pyramids  of  Gizeh  :  I  may  also  have  turned  up 
the  whites  of  my  eyes  at  the  mere  thought  of  such  a 
desecration.  It  is  now  a  well-estabHshed  concern,  and 
we  may  congratulate  ourselves  that  neither  the  Pyramids 
nor  the  Sphinx  seem  much  the  worse  for  it.  The  line 
ends  just  below  the  plateau  on  which  the  Pyramids  have 
been  raised,  and  by  the  time  these  are  reached  the 
prosaic  tram-cars  are  well  out  of  sight.  The  Antiquities 
Department  holds  all  the  ground  which  contains  any- 
thing here  of  interest,  so  we  shall  be  spared  the  erection 
of  anything  tending  to  vulgarise  it.  The  tram  is  in  truth 
a  great  boon  to  many,  and  not  the  least  to  those  who, 
like  myself,  spend  much  time  in  the  bazaars  and  streets 
of  the  old  city. 

I  can  look  back  on  nothing  more  pleasurable, 
during  my  last  sojourn  in  Egypt,  than  the  moonlit 
evenings  quietly  spent  on  the  glorious  Pyramid  plateau. 
I  put  this  off  until  the  season  was  well  on  the  wane 
and  the  first  great  heat  had  emptied  Cairo  of  the  bulk 
of  its  foreign  sightseers.  A  forty  minutes'  run — and, 
my  word,  there  is  no  dawdling  here  ! — along  the  Gizeh 

127 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

road,  blows  the  heat  and  the  bazaar  stuffiness  well  out 
of  one's  system,  and  the  pure  dry  air  of  the  desert,  when 
the  higher  level  is  reached,  prepares  one  to  enjoy  every- 
thing to  the  uttermost.  Familiarity  may  have  lessened 
the  excitement  which  a  first  gaze  at  the  world's  greatest 
wonder  must  produce,  but  familiarity  has  never  robbed 
it  of  its  awful  impressiveness. 

The  rays  of  the  declining  sun  or  the  light  of  the 
moon  may  glorify  the  most  commonplace  subjects  ;  but 
that  which  is  always  grand  here  reaches  the  sublime  on 
a  hne  moonlight  night.  Let  us  cross  the  broad  shadow 
cast  by  Kheops'  mighty  tomb,  and  glance  up  that  vast 
surface,  rapidly  receding  and  lessening,  yet  more  and 
more  clearly  defined  as  it  rises  into  the  deepening  back- 
ground of  the  star-spangled  blue.  Its  base  is  hardly 
definable  from  the  pale  golden  sand  on  which  it  rests, 
and  the  distance  to  the  further  angle  is  hard  to  judge. 
To  our  left  three  shapeless  masses  stand  out  dark  against 
the  eastern  horizon  :  they  are  the  ruins  of  the  small 
pyramids  beneath  which  were  laid  the  Pharaoh's 
daughters.  Was  Henwetsen  young  or  fair  when  she 
found  her  resting-place  beneath  that  heap  of  stones  ? 
Had  no  monument  been  raised  to  mark  the  spot,  the 
sixty  centuries  since  elapsed  might  not  have  disturbed 
her  sleep. 

Following  a  straightish  course  over  the  sand-buried 
necropolis,  we  soon  see,  rising  from  a  hollow  in  the 
plateau,  a  mushroom-shaped  rock,  and  we  know  that 
our  objective  is  in  sight.  We  skirt  the  depression  in 
the  soil  till  we  are  arrested  by  the  huge  human  profile, 
which  is  now  clearly  defined  against  the  sky.      I  leave 

128 


PKRSIAN  ALMSHOUSES 


THE    SPHINX 

my  companion  to  his  contemplations  ;  for  the  supreme 
moment,  when  I  consider  the  Sphinx  is  to  be  at  his 
best,  has  now  arrived.  I  run  round  the  edge  of  the 
hollow  to  compare  a  three-quarter  view  with  his  full  face. 
He  seems  too  sunk  and  dwarfed  by  the  ground  behind 
him,  and  I  descend  to  the  lower  level  till  his  shoulders 
just  appear  above  the  horizon.  I  feel  I  can't  better 
this  view,  and  I  settle  down  to  try  and  absorb  as  much 
as  my  memory  will  hold,  with  a  dim  hope  of  being 
able  to  record  it  on  the  following  morning. 

The  moon  shines  so  brightly  in  these  latitudes,  that 
I  had  looked  forward  to  being  able  to  paint  by  its  light. 
That  was  in  my  earlier  days,  and  the  muddy-looking 
mess,  which  the  next  morning's  light  revealed,  made 
me  abandon  any  further  attempts  in  that  direction.  To 
take  all  the  notes  one  can,  and  to  retain  as  much  of  the 
colour  as  one's  memory  can  hold,  is  the  only  possible 
way  to  battle  with  this  subject. 

There  are  moments  when  uncalled-for  information 
might  almost  justify  homicide.  I  had  flattered  myself 
that,  hid  away  as  I  was  in  the  shadow  of  the  shelving 
slope  of  the  hollow,  I  might  have  remained  unobserved 
by  the  Pyramid  pests  who  look  upon  every  stranger  as 
their  fair  prey.  Some  broken  stones  sliding  down  the 
slope  make  me  look  up,  and  there  to  my  horror  I  hnd 
one  of  these  pests  taking  his  seat  just  above  me.  '  Hi, 
mister,  you  take  my  donkey  ;  Roosevelt  best  donkey 
in  Egypt  ;  take  you  to  Mena  House  for  two  piastres.' 
I  tell  the  man  in  Arabic  to  go  away  and  not  to  disturb 
me.  He  is  evidently  disappointed  in  me  when  he  finds 
I  am  not  entirely  new  to  the  country  ;  possibly  this  is 
R  129 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

only  a  phrase  I  may  have  learnt  in  a  guide-book,  so  he 
begins  again  :  '  Yaas,  Roosevelt  best  donkey  in  Egypt  ; 
two  piastres  not  much  money  ;  you  ride  my  .  .  .'  I 
jump  up  on  murder  intent,  though  I  am  the  most  peace- 
able of  mortals.  The  Arab  jumps  up  also  and,  throw- 
ing himself  on  Roosevelt's  back,  moves  off  faster  than 
he  came.  When  my  irritation  has  calmed  down,  I 
have  to  begin  over  again  to  try  and  impress  on  my 
mind  the  essentials  of  the  grand  subject  before  me. 

I  admit  that  the  nuisance  of  the  Pyramid  Bedouins 
has  been  somewhat  diminished  of  late  ;  but  they  are 
nevertheless  a  great  nuisance  still.  The  fault  lies  to 
a  certain  extent  with  the  tourists,  especially  the 
ladies,  who  take  far  too  much  notice  of  them.  If  the 
ladies  were  aware  of  what  these  blackguards  say  of 
them,  they  would  perhaps  keep  them  at  a  better 
distance.  They  have  lost  all  the  virtues  of  the  true 
Bedouins,  and  have  acquired  all  the  vices  of  the 
Fellaheen.  They  are  a  good-looking  set  of  ruffians, 
which  accounts  for  the  way  some  visitors  spoil  them  ; 
but  this  does  not  excuse  the  police  from  stopping  their 
importunities. 

I  found  on  the  following  morning  that  a  second 
visit  was  necessary,  and  allowing  for  the  later  rising 
of  the  moon,  I  went  a  second  time  accompanied  by 
a  sympathetic  friend.  We  managed  to  shake  off  the 
Pyramid  limpets,  and  my  friend  kept  guard  over  me 
while  enjoying  his  pipe.  I  think  I  got  what  notes  I 
wanted  before  another  distraction  came.  Some  half- 
dozen  British  soldiers  were  having  an  evening  out,  and 
were    also    attracted    to    the    moonlit   Sphinx.      Their 

130 


TOMMY    ATKINS 

object  was  also  to  get  a  presentment  of  the  '  Mysterious 
One,'  though  chiefly  as  a  background  to  themselves. 
The  conventional  group,  which  may  be  seen  here  any 
day  during  the  season,  did  not  satisfy  the  Tommy  with 
the  camera.  He  was  probably  a  corporal,  for  he  directed 
his  sitters  as  one  accustomed  to  command.  '  Crawl  up 
on  to  his  mug,  can't  yer,'  to  two  or  three  who  had 
found  a  safe  seat  on  the  shoulders.  '  Right  you  are. 
Cocky,'  came  from  an  adventurous  sitter,  who  pro- 
ceeded to  climb  the  neck  and  swarm  up  the  wig  till 
he  reached  a  safe  position  in  the  Sphinx's  ear.  A  more 
dangerous  climb  was  that  of  one  who  worked  his  way 
round  the  cheek  to  find  a  foot-hold  in  a  crack  where 
the  nose  used  to  be.  Another  proceeded  by  a  northern 
route  and  risked  his  neck  to  get  on  to  the  lip.  Finding 
this  an  insecure  place  he  appealed  to  the  artist  below. 
'  'Ang  on  to  'is  eyelid  and  put  your  foot  into  'is  norstril,' 
came  the  word  of  command,  as  well  as  plenty  of  advice 
from  the  Arab  spectators.  '  Now — ready — present — 
fire  ! '  A  dim  light  from  a  lucifer  match  was  all  the 
fire  we  saw,  and  loud  jeers  from  the  Arabs  drowned 
what  language  was  addressed  to  the  defective  flash- 
light. 

An  Arab  who  had  some  magnesium  wire  saw  his 
opportunity  to  do  a  deal.  '  I  give  you  plenty  light 
for  one  shilling.'  '  One  shilling,  you  blighter,  for  an 
'aporth  of  wire  ! '  came  from  the  photographic  artist, 
with  comments  from  the  sitters  up  aloft.  The  one 
safely  fixed  in  the  Sphinx's  ear  was  for  holding  out, 
while  the  one  hanging  on  to  the  eyelid  proposed 
coming    to    terms.       '  We  '11    give    ye     three     piastres 

•31 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

when  ta  job 's  feenished,'  bawled  out  the  latter  in  a 
strong  North  British  accent.  '  Me  know  what  them 
piastres  feel  like,'  from  the  Arab,  who  had  not  yet 
learnt  that  the  word  of  a  Briton  is  equal  to  his  bond. 
A  ready-money  transaction  was  clearly  indicated,  and 
two  piastres  down  was  finally  taken  in  preference  to 
the  promise  of  three  from  the  Scot  hanging  on  to  the 
eyelid.  A  flash  of  white  light  and  a  '  Hip,  hip,  hip, 
hurrah  ! '  from  the  Arab  spectators,  brought  the  seance 
to  a  close. 

The  British  infantry,  when  quartered  in  the  East, 
develop  a  passion  for  riding  some  beast  or  another. 
Donkey-boys  fought  for  its  custom,  and  the  supply 
being  greater  than  the  demand,  satisfactory  terms  were 
arranged.  One  Tommy  declaring  that  the  '  commisairy 
camuel '  was  the  boy  for  him,  camels  were  soon  on 
the  spot.  '  Ands  off",  you  measly  son  of  the  Proofit, 
or  I  '11  give  you  a  clip  on  the  side  of  the  ear,'  was 
Tommy's  warning  to  an  over-zealous  claimant  for  his 
custom.  The  driver  moved  off  quickly  to  take  his  ear 
out  of  danger,  and  a  less  presumptuous  rival  got  the 
fare.  We  heard,  as  might  be  expected,  the  well-worn 
jest  about  the  camel  having  the  hump  when  the  beast 
showed  a  disinclination  to  rise,  and  soon  after  the  merry 
party  disappeared  in  the  shades  of  the  desert. 

Times  and  oft  have  I  heard  our  occupation  of  Egypt 
criticised,  not  by  foreigners  residing  there,  but  by  those 
who  could  easily  clear  out  if  things  looked  awkward. 
It  is  naturally  also  a  reproach  to  the  native  that  his 
people  should  not  be  considered  fit  to  govern  them- 
selves, even  when  he  doubts  that  fitness  himself.      But, 

132 


TOMMY    ATKINS 

be  this  as  it  may,  the  conduct  of  the  British  soldier  is 
rarely  a  cause  of  complaint.  I  will  even  go  further  and 
say  that  Tommy  Atkins  is  popular  with  the  very  people 
whom  he  is  called  upon  to  hold  in  check.  He  spends 
his  money — often  injudiciously,  I  admit — more  freely 
than  does  the  Levantine,  and  the  natives  feel  sure  that 
the  payment  of  a  just  debt  can  always  be  enforced. 
Besides  this,  he  is  a  jolly  fellow,  and  a  bit  of  rough  fun 
appeals  to  the  lower  orders  in  Cairo.  British  military 
police  patrol  the  streets  at  night,  and  woe  betide  Tommy 
if  he  is  caught  in  a  broil. 

How  far  Cairo  is  conducive  to  our  soldier's  morals 
is  another  matter  ;  Cairo,  however,  may  be  more  to 
blame  in  this  than  the  men  we  send  there.  The 
military  authorities  do  their  utmost  to  ensure  good 
behaviour,  but  they  can't  prevent  the  men  from  enjoy- 
ing themselves  in  their  own  particular  way  when  off 
duty.  Should  we  be  anxious  to  know  the  latest  '  turn ' 
of  the  London  music-halls,  we  have  but  to  walk  down 
some  of  the  streets  north  of  the  Esbekiyeh  an  hour  or 
two  before  tattoo,  and  we  will  lind  Tommy  giving  the 
'  turn,'  with  suitable  action,  to  an  admiring  crowd  in 
the  drink-shop.  There  is  also  generally  one  to  play  a 
piano  accompaniment,  and  I  have  often  wondered  how 
and  when  this  soldier  could  have  found  the  opportunity 
to  acquire  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  his  instrument.  A 
concertina  ohbligato  is  also  of  frequent  occurrence.  When 
the  Levantine  landlord's  raw  spirits  begin  to  tell,  the 
songs  do  not  of  necessity  become  more  uproarious,  as 
might  be  expected  ;  but  a  mawkish  sentimentality  is 
the   chief  characteristic.      '  The  sailor   sighs '  or  '  The 

133 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

soldier  dropt  a  tear '  is  then  more  the  type  of  song  than 
the  HveUer  ones  with  roUicking  choruses.  Donkey- 
boys  hang  about  these  drink-shops  and  other  less 
reputable  places,  and  manage  somehow  to  get  the 
carousers  back  to  barracks  before  tattoo  has  sounded. 

Unfortunately,  it  is  those  who  spend  their  evenings 
in  the  least  profitable  manner  who  are  most  in  evidence. 
The  places  where  harmless  recreation  is  provided  for  the 
soldiers  are  not  in  like  manner  open  to  the  street,  and 
the  number  who  use  them  may  well  resent  being  judged 
by  the  samples  who  frequent  the  drink-shops. 

Let  us  return  to  the  Sphinx  :  the  very  thought  of  the 
gaslit  streets  near  the  Esbekiyeh  makes  the  air  seem 
purer  and  cooler  ;  the  expression  of  the  '  Mysterious 
One '  is  no  more  ruffled  by  his  late  indignities  than 
would  be  the  face  of  a  sheykh  after  having  brushed  off 
a  few  flies.  I  had  taken  the  notes  I  wanted  and  my 
companion  had  been  well  entertained  by  the  comic 
interlude  the  soldiers  had  provided.  It  was  a  glorious 
moonlight  night,  the  Sphinx  looked  majestic  despite  his 
battered  features,  the  pale  warm  colouring  of  the  neck 
and  shoulders  harmonised  beautifully  with  the  desert 
shades  in  which  it  was  partly  lost,  and  the  more  sombre 
lines  of  the  head  were  relieved  against  a  low-toned  blue 
of  a  quality  as  hopeless  to  attempt  to  describe  as  it  seemed 
hopeless  ever  to  match  with  the  limitations  of  the  pallet. 
One  leaves  such  a  scene  with  much  the  same  sensations 
as  after  having  witnessed  some  grand  and  solemn  function. 
It  is  as  well  that  these  scenes  are  not  of  daily  occurrence, 
lest  the  critical  eye  rob  it  of  its  solemnity. 

The  tram-cars  run  us  back  across  the  five  miles  of 

134 


THE    SPHINX 

cultivation  which  separate  the  Pyramid  plateau  from 
the  Nile  ;  they  cross  by  the  new  bridge  to  the  island  of 
Rodah,  and  then,  skirting  Old  Cairo,  we  are  carried  along 
the  east  bank  of  the  river  till  we  are  put  down  in  the 
heart  of  the  modern  quarters. 


CHAPTER    Xlir 

THE  HAMSEEN,  THE  LAMP-SHOP,  AND  THE 
ACCESSION  OF  SAID  PASHA 

FROM  the  end  of  March,  when  the  wind  shifts  to 
the  south,  we  get  a  taste  of  summer's  heat.  The 
talk  in  the  hotels  is  of  home-returning  steamers, 
and  Cook's  offices  are  besieged  with  visitors  anxious  to 
secure  early  bookings.  The  Hamseen,  as  this  unplea- 
sant wind  is  called,  causes  a  rapid  rise  in  the  tempera- 
ture, and  while  it  lasts  the  whole  aspect  of  northern 
Egypt  changes.  The  sky  partakes  of  the  colour  of 
the  desert,  and  has  something  of  the  look  of  a  slight 
London  fog  ;  the  sun  also  reminds  us  of  the  pale 
orange  sphere  visible  when  Londoners  remark  on  its 
being  a  fine  day.  Apart  from  these  appearances  the 
sensations  felt  are  very  different.  Neither  moisture  nor 
smoke  give  that  yellowish  look  here  ;  it  is  the  sand 
which  the  wind  collects  as  it  blows  across  the  desert 
in  its  northern  course.  As  the  wind  increases,  so  the 
temperature  rises,  and  the  extreme  dryness  of  the  air 
causes  those  unpleasant  sensations  felt  with  the  first 
symptoms  of  fever. 

Cairo  becomes  unpaintable,  the  sun  hardly  casts  a 
shadow  through  the  thickening  clouds  of  dust,  and  such 
shadow  as  it  is  has  none  of  that  blue  reflected  light 
which  gives  the  true  shadow  quality.      Did  not  experi- 

136 


THE  STORE  OF  NASSAn 


THE    HAMSEEN 

ence  teach  me  that  it  is  only  a  passing  phase,  my  incHna- 
tion  would  be  to  pack  up  and  leave  by  the  hrst  available 
steamer  and  join  the  migration  to  the  north.  It  is  useless 
to  hunt  about  the  streets  for  subjects  ;  for  even  if  one 
were  found  sufficiently  attractive,  the  dust  would  render 
the  work  an  impossibility.  Some  subject  of  a  still-life 
nature  in  the  shelter  of  the  bazaars  or  an  interior  must 
be  found,  unless  one  makes  up  one's  mind  to  stay 
indoors  until  the  wind  sets  in  a  more  favourable 
quarter. 

The  word  hamseen  means  fifty,  and  is  given  to  this 
wind  because  of  the  fifty  days  during  which  spells  of  it 
may  be  expected.  If  street  rows  are  more  fi-equent,  if 
irritability  or  headaches  are  complained  of,  the  Cairene 
shrugs  his  shoulders  and  says  *  Ha?nseen.''  It  was  a  day 
of  that  kind  that  took  me  once  more  to  the  Khan  Khalil. 
I  had  often  been  attracted  by  a  lamp-shop  there,  but  had 
put  off  painting  it  on  account  of  the  elaborate  detail,  and 
doubts  whether  the  results  would  be  proportionate  to 
the  work  involved.  A  corner  well  sheltered  fi-om  the 
wind  and  an  obliging  shopman  induced  me  to  set  up 
my  easel.  Should  the  wind  change,  I  could  always 
leave  it  and  return  when  the  next  hamseen  would  make 
work  impossible  elsewhere. 

Every  type  of  Egyptian  lamp  hung  round  the 
entrance,  and  lamps  and  lampstands  lined  the  walls  of 
the  passage  leading  into  the  store  beyond.  There,  in 
the  deeper  shades,  the  sparkle  of  polished  metal  sug- 
gested innumerable  lamps  of  which  the  near  ones  were 
samples.  Brass  bowls  and  trays,  teapots  and  candle- 
sticks, filled  up  the  spaces  where  lamps  could   not  be 

s  '37 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

hung.  With  the  buff-coloured  stone  of  the  building, 
this  metal-work  made  a  harmonious  whole.  To  pull 
this  together  so  as  not  to  lose  the  breadth  of  effect 
would  be  no  easy  task.  During  the  third  day  in  this 
corner  of  the  bazaar  a  ray  of  sunlight  heralded  a  return 
of  beautiful  weather  ;  a  drop  in  the  temperature  and 
the  feel  of  one's  skin  were  enough  to  tell  one  that  the 
wind  blew  no  more  from  the  south,  and  that  once  more 
the  cool  breezes  from  the  sea  ran  counter  to  the  flow 
of  the  Nile.  The  little  sunlight  which  found  its  way 
between  the  awnings  and  matting  which  roof  in  this 
bazaar  was  enough  to  alter  the  whole  effect  of  my 
subject.  My  drawing  looked  leathery  and  sodden  com- 
pared to  the  rich  glow  which  lit  up  the  shop,  and 
proved  that  even  the  nearest  bit  of  still-life  is  better 
when  the  presence  of  the  sun  is  felt.  I  sponged  out 
more  lamps  in  two  minutes  than  I  had  put  in  in  two 
days,  and  this  corner  knew  me  no  more  on  /ia9nsee?i 
days.  It  was,  after  all,  only  during  beautiful  days  that  I 
could  complete  the  drawing  which  illustrates  these 
pages. 

Nassan  is  the  proprietor  of  the  shop,  and  Nassan 
seemed  much  exercised  in  his  mind  why  I  should  have 
so  ruthlessly  made  away  with  so  many  lamps,  though 
they  were  only  on  paper.  What  did  a  ray  of  sunlight 
matter  as  long  as  the  name  of  Nassan  was  conspicuous 
on  the  signboard  which  hung  over  the  entrance  ?  As 
new  lamps  replaced  the  old,  Nassau's  interest  in  my 
drawing  reawakened,  and  overtures  were  even  made  for 
its  acquisition.  I  told  him  I  wished  to  take  it  to  Eng- 
land, as  I  wanted  illustrations  for  a  book  I  was  about 

138 


THE    LAMP-SHOP 

to  write,  and  he,  not  wishing  to  lose  a  gratis  advertise- 
ment, got  me  to  promise  to  say  that  he  was  prepared 
to  supply  any  one  with  as  many  lamps  as  they  could 
possibly  wish.  He  had  recently  furnished  the  Heliopolis 
hotel  with  three  hundred  metal  ones,  and  his  stock  was 
not  nearly  exhausted. 

I  looked  up  Mustapha,  the  silk-merchant  with  whom 
I  had  spent  an  interesting  evening  during  the  Hasaneyn 
festival.  While  we  sipped  our  coffee  on  the  mastaba 
of  his  shop,  we  reverted  to  the  tragic  story  of  the  Irish- 
man O'Donald  and  his  first  meeting  with  the  princess 
Zohra.  Her  history  has  been  continued  during  this 
narrative,  and  my  readers  may  remember  that  we  last 
saw  her  settled  down  in  Constantinople  under  the  pro- 
tection of  the  Sultan  of  Turkey.  How  her  hatred  of 
Abbas  (the  then  ruling  Viceroy)  outlived  her  thwarted 
love  for  O'Donald  will  now  be  related.  From  the 
account  given  by  the  German  engineer.  Max  Eyth,  I 
was  able  to  tell  the  silk-merchant  more  of  what  hap- 
pened than  he  knew  ;  for  Eyth  had  the  details  from 
Halim  Pasha,  Zohra's  own  brother,  who  was  an  impor- 
tant actor  in  the  drama.  But  nothing  to  incriminate 
his  sister  fell  fi-om  Halim's  lips  ;  the  part  she  played 
was  related  by  the  servant  Rames,  from  whom  Eyth 
obtained  most  of  her  history.  Why  no  English  edition 
of  Max  Eyth's  Hi?iter  Pflug  unci  Schraubstock  should 
exist  is  a  mystery  to  the  present  writer. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  when  the  great  Moham- 
med Ali,  towards  the  end  of  his  reign,  fell  into  a  state 
of  imbecility,  the  reins  of  government  were  seized  by 
his  famous  general  and  adopted   son   Ibrahim,  and   that 

139 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

the  latter  died  within  a  year  after  becoming  the  ruler  of 
Egypt.  Mohammed's  death  occurred  soon  after,  and 
the  viceregal  throne  passed  to  his  grandson,  Abbas  i., 
who  reigned  from  1849  ^^  ^854.  During  these  five 
years  the  Europeanisation  of  Egypt  ceased.  Abbas 
would  have  none  of  the  Prankish  innovations  which  his 
grandfather  encouraged  ;  European  schools,  western 
legal  procedure  and  military  instruction  were  banished, 
and  the  ulemas,  dervishes,  and  fakirs  came  by  their  own 
once  more.  His  country  nevertheless  prospered  during 
his  reign. 

As  in  so  many  instances  in  the  history  of  Egypt, 
this  ruler  was  a  terror  to  his  numerous  near  relatives 
who  might  be  able  to  establish  a  claim  to  the  succession. 
Of  the  eighty-five  children  of  Mohammed  Ali  but  few 
were  living,  and  this  few  were  well  alive  to  the  danger 
of  their  august  relationship.  Even  the  princess  Zohra, 
after  she  had  fled  to  Constantinople,  must  be  careful 
of  what  she  ate  or  drank,  and  of  the  loyalty  of  those 
who  served  her.  The  Taster  became  once  more  an 
important  personage  in  the  various  palaces,  and  not  the 
least  in  that  of  Abbas  himself.  His  two  uncles.  Said 
and  Halim,  were  both  much  the  same  age  as  their 
nephew — a  thing  of  constant  occurrence  in  the  hareem 
life  in  the  East.  They  lived  on  tenterhooks,  as  being 
possible  rivals  to  the  succession  of  Abbas's  only  son,  a 
delicate  little  boy  called  El  Hami.  Said  Pasha  lived  at 
Alexandria  when  he  was  not  enjoying  himself  in  Paris. 
He  was  the  minister  of  the  Egyptian  navy — not  an 
arduous  post,  for  most  of  the  ships  had  been  destroyed 
during    the    wars    of  his   father  and  those  of  Ibrahim. 

140 


THE    ACCESSION    OF    SAID    PASHA 

Halim  Pasha  lived  in  retirement  in  his  mother's  palace 
at  Shubra. 

Abbas  and  his  large  hareem  divided  their  time  at 
the  palace  at  Abbasiyeh,  at  another  which  he  built  in 
the  desert  near  Suez,  and  at  a  third  on  the  banks 
of  the  Nile  at  Benha.  The  chief  ulema  of  the  Azhar 
who  was  tutor  to  El  Hami,  and  Elfy  Bey,  the  Governor 
of  Cairo  and  Minister  of  War,  became  the  leading  men 
in  the  state.  Rumours  soon  spread  through  the  bazaars 
that  a  holy  war  might  any  day  be  proclaimed,  and,  if 
so,  a  general  massacre  of  the  Christians  would  follow. 
Later  on  it  was  reported  that  the  day  of  the  horse  races 
at  Alexandria  was  the  day  decided  on  for  the  rising. 
Said  and  Halim,  who  were  both  friendly  to  the  Euro- 
peans, trembled  at  the  consequences  which  might  follow ; 
for  in  a  general  rising  opportunities  are  easily  found  to 
dispose  of  relations  who  may  be  thought  in  the  way. 
The  Minister  of  the  Navy  found  an  excuse  for  going  to 
Marseilles  about  the  purchase  of  a  frigate,  and  he  made 
preparations  to  sail  the  day  before  the  races. 

It  was  during  the  first  days  of  the  hamseen  that 
these  sinister  rumours  spread  in  the  bazaars,  and  Abbas 
decided  to  migrate  with  his  court  to  the  palace  at  Benha, 
which  is  about  a  third  of  the  way  on  the  road  from  Cairo 
to  Alexandria.  It  was  also  decided  to  send  the  young 
prince  El  Hami  to  Syria  for  the  good  of  his  health.  From 
his  stables  at  Benha  the  Viceroy  would  send  his  fivourite 
horse,  el  Dogaan,  to  compete  in  the  Alexandrian  races. 

The  narrator  goes  on  to  say  that  '  man  may  propose, 
but  God  disposes.'  Abbas  and  his  court  duly  arrived 
at  the  palace  at  Benha;  the  hafnseen  increased  in  strength, 

141 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

and  with  it  the  temper  of  Abbas,  which  at  no  time  was 
a  good  one.  It  was  an  easy  task  for  the  ulcmas  and 
dervishes,  who  formed  a  part  of  his  suite,  to  dispel  any 
misgivings  which  the  Pasha  may  have  had  as  to  the 
contemplated  massacre.  The  court  astrologer,  Soliman 
el  Habeshi,  had  fixed  the  auspicious  hour  on  which  to 
begin.  The  /iamsee?i  favoured  their  designs,  for  we 
are  told  that  the  wind  increased  in  violence,  and  that 
el  Habeshi  had  to  make  his  calculations  when  no  stars 
were  visible,  owing  to  the  clouds  of  dust  which  hid  them. 
Rames,  the  servant  of  Halim  Pasha,  now  relates  to 
Eyth  what  followed.  '  I  had  long  been  supplanted  in 
my  post  of  pipe-filler  to  Abbas,  who  at  that  time  was 
my  master,  by  two  handsome  young  mamelukes  called 
Hassan  and  Husseyn.  They  were  twins,  the  same  as 
were  the  heroes  after  whom  they  were  named.  They 
had  been  sent  from  Constantinople  as  a  present  from 
the  Sultan  to  the  ruler  of  Egypt.  Abbas  had  every 
confidence  in  them  and  loaded  them  with  marks  of 
his  favour,  while  I  was  relegated  to  the  stables.  I  did 
not  mind  that,  for  I  always  loved  horses,  and  el  Dogaan 
was  as  the  apple  of  my  eye.  As  no  one  could  ride 
this  horse  as  I  could,  it  was  decided  that  I  should  do 
jockey  in  the  coming  races.  I  was  in  the  seventh 
heaven,  and  was  attending  to  my  charge  one  night,  when 
I  was  startled  by  the  appearance  in  the  stables  of  the 
astrologer.  His  wild  looks  and  gestures  were  alarm- 
ing, "  Be  silent,  Rames !  "  he  said,  "  the  all-knowing 
God  ordains  what  is  right,  but  our  Lord  the  Basha  is  in 
his  bath  !      He  bathes  in  his  own  blood  !  " 

'  The  horror  of  this  awful  news  gave  way  to  a  sense 

142 


THE    ACCESSION    OF    SAID    PASHA 

of  relief  that  I  was  at  last  freed  from  a  lifelong  tyranny. 
I  ran  to  the  palace  and  crept  silently  up  the  stairs  and 
through  the  passages  which  led  to  the  bathroom.  A 
lamp  hung  outside  the  curtain  at  the  entrance.  I  feared 
to  pull  this  aside — I  listened,  and  hearing  no  sound  my 
curiosity  overcame  my  fear.  I  pulled  back  the  curtain, 
and  a  red  ray  from  the  hanging  lamp  fell  on  to  the 
marble  bath.  A  naked  arm  hung  over  the  further  edge 
and  a  head  lay  against  the  end  wall.  As  if  to  make  him 
look  ridiculous,  his  assassins  had  slit  the  mouth  till  it 
nearly  reached  the  ears,  and  a  horrible  grimace  added 
to  the  awfulness  of  the  scene.  A  gash  in  the  throat 
showed  how  the  Basha  had  met  his  death,  and  a  dark 
red  stream  still  trickled  from  this  to  colour  the  water 
in  which  the  body  lay. 

'  I  still  see,  when  I  close  my  eyes,  that  bloodless 
face  with  its  diabolical  smile,  lit  by  the  red  rays  of  the 
hanging  lamp  ;  though  the  Basha  was  dead,  the  evil 
spirit  which  possessed  him  still  clung  to  its  tenement. 
The  costly  marble  bath,  the  gilded  stalactites  which 
hung  from  the  dome-shaped  roof,  and  all  the  luxury 
with  which  this  room  was  fitted  only  added  to  the 
horror  of  the  spectacle. 

*  I  heard  voices  not  far  off,  and  knew  the  danger  I 
ran  if  I  were  caught  here.  I  slipped  off  as  fast  and  as 
silently  as  I  could  and  returned  to  my  stables,  where  I 
saddled  el  Dogaan  and  led  him  along  the  footpath  to 
the  bank  of  the  river.  Huddled  in  a  heap,  there  sat 
the  astrologer,  who  trembled  as  the  aspen  leaf  I  asked 
him  what  he  was  doing  there,  and,  putting  his  fingers  to 
his  lips,  he  whispered,  "  Do  you  not  know,  O  Rames, 

'43 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

that  they  seek  to  kill  me  ?  The  court  physician  is 
already  under  lock  and  key,  and  all  who  know  of  this 
murder  must  die — you  also — for  the  secret  must  on  no 
account  leak  out  until  El  Hami  can  be  placed  on  the 
throne."  "  They  must  catch  me  first,"  I  called  out,  and 
jumping  into  the  saddle  I  stuck  my  spurs  into  el  Dogaan 
and  rode  towards  Shubra  as  fast  as  I  could. 

'  Halim  Basha  had  oft  befriended  me,  and  he  would 
not  forsake  me  now  in  my  dire  necessity.  El  Dogaan 
raced  along  the  Cairo  road  as  fast  as  if  he  took  part  in 
the  Alexandrian  meeting.  In  two  hours  he  covered  the 
ground  between  Benha  and  the  Shubra  palace,  where 
we  arrived  before  daybreak.  Allah  el  Azeem  !  how  he 
ran.  I  thought  not  only  of  my  safety,  but  of  the  far- 
reaching  effects  my  news  might  have.' 

The  prince  Halim  here  continues  the  narrative  :  '  I 
was  awakened  when  the  first  light  of  the  rising  sun  was 
visible  over  the  edge  of  the  desert  beyond  the  Abbasiyeh 
palace.  They  told  me  that  a  man  had  brought  a 
message  which  had  to  be  delivered  at  once.  I  de- 
scended to  the  courtyard  and  found  Rames  ;  but  so 
covered  with  dust  was  he  that  I  could  hardly  recognise 
him.  After  the  greeting  he  whispered  in  my  ear  : 
"  God  is  just  !  Your  nephew  lies  dead  in  his  bath  at 
Benha."  You  may  imagine  the  shock  this  news  gave 
me.  But  was  this  mameluke  to  be  trusted  ?  Might 
it  not  be  a  ruse  of  Abbas  to  trap  me  with  a  word  or 
gesture,  which  would  have  been  my  undoing  ?  "  God's 
will  be  done,"  I  said,  and  ordered  Rames  to  return  at 
once  to  Benha  and  let  no  one  know  that  I  had  know- 
ledge of  the  crime. 

144 


RETURN   OF  THE  HOLY  CARPET 


THE    ACCESSION    OF     SAID    PASHA 

'  No  time  was  to  be  lost  in  apprising  my  brother 
Said,  as  he  was  to  have  sailed  that  very  day  from 
Alexandria,  and,  unless  Rames  had  lied,  our  country 
was  now  without  a  ruler.  The  lad  El  Hami  was  at 
Damietta  on  his  way  to  Syria,  and  if  that  child  were 
made  Viceroy,  Egypt  and  all  of  us  would  be  at  the 
tender  mercies  of  Elfy  Bey  and  the  Ulema.  The 
English  had  lately  set  up  a  telegraph  office  in  Cairo  ; 
but  how  could  I  word  this  message  so  as  to  be  only 
understood  by  my  brother  ?  The  following  at  last 
suggested  itself,  and  Said  would  not  have  been  a  son  of 
his  father  had  he  misunderstood  the  meaning  :  "  The 
house  thou  seekcst  in  Cairo  is  empty.  The  door  stands 
open.      Walk  in,"      Said  understood. 

'  He  told  me  later  that  my  message  was  only  just  in 
time,  for  he  was  about  to  start  for  the  steamer.  He 
decided  promptly  to  leave  for  Cairo  instead,  and  he  and 
his  bodyguard  were  on  the  road  before  the  steamer 
had  disappeared  beyond  the  horizon.  They  reached 
Damanhur  that  evening,  and  at  an  early  hour  next 
morning,  when  he  arrived  at  Benha,  he  was  informed 
that  Abbas  and  his  court  had  just  left  to  return  to 
Cairo.  He  questioned  some  of  the  notabilities  of  the 
town,  only  to  hear  with  what  pomp  the  Viceroy  had  set 
out  on  his  journey.  What  was  my  brother  to  make  of 
all  this  ?  Was  this  telegram  a  trap  ?  or  had  he  perhaps 
misunderstood  its  meaning  ?  The  palace  was  deserted, 
so  he  and  his  followers  rested  there  till  the  following 
day,  and  then  continued  their  journey  to  Cairo. 

'  I  spent  an  anxious  morning  at  Shubra,'  continued 
Halim   Pasha,   '  but  imagine  my  astonishment  when  a 

T  '45 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

runner  in  my  employ  arrived  from  Kalioub  to  inform 
me  that  Abbas  had  passed  through  that  village,  and 
would  in  all  probability  arrive  at  Shubra  towards  five 
o'clock  that  very  afternoon.  "  That  damned  mameluke 
must  have  lied,"  said  I  to  myself,  and  I  had  to  make 
preparations,  as  the  custom  is,  to  welcome  the  Viceroy, 
or  (should  he  not  wish  to  break  his  journey)  to  greet 
him  at  the  door  of  my  palace.  I  had  hardly  put  on 
my  court  dress  when  two  messengers  were  announced, 
and  they  informed  me  that  they  had  been  sent  ahead 
by  His  Highness,  my  nephew,  to  beg  me  not  to  stay 
his  journey,  as  he  was  in  great  haste  to  reach  his  palace 
at  Abbasiyeh  that  evening.  In  one  of  these  messengers 
I  recognised  Rames,  who  hung  back  while  the  other 
spoke.  He  drooped  his  head  and  closed  his  eyes — was 
this  a  sign  ?      And  what  could  be  the  interpretation  ? 

'  Towards  midnight  of  the  following  day  Said  and 
his  guard  arrived.  We  had  to  hide  the  latter  as  well 
as  we  could  in  the  stables  and  outhouses,  for  it  was  a 
dangerous  business.  Some  trusty  servants  whom  I  had 
sent  into  Cairo  reported  on  the  crowds  of  people  who 
had  gathered  to  witness  the  Viceroy's  progress  through 
the  city,  and  declared  that  His  Highness  bowed  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  ovations  he  received.  Our 
anxiety  increased  with  each  fresh  report.  My  mother, 
however,  did  not  share  our  misgivings.  "  Rames  has 
not  lied,"  she  said  ;  "  I  watched  him  carefully,  and  his 
actions  told  me  clearly  that  Abbas  was  dead." 

'  We  spent  the  following  day  here  awaiting  some 
report  which  might  help  to  clear  up  the  mystery. 
Towards   evening   some    servants   of  mine    brought  in 

146 


THE    ACCESSION    OF    SAID    PASHA 

the  astrologer,  Soliman,  whom  they  had  picked  up 
more  dead  than  alive  on  the  road  from  Benha.  I 
told  them  to  feed  the  old  blackguard,  and  when  he  had 
somewhat  recovered  I  questioned  him.  He  wished  to 
tell  me  what  the  stars  had  revealed,  but  I  soon  was 
satisfied  in  my  mind  that  Rames  had  not  lied.  There 
was  still  time  to  take  action  before  the  young  prince  El 
Hami  could  have  reached  Cairo  from  Damietta,  and  we 
could  not  anyhow  have  kept  Said  and  his  thirty  retainers 
here  without  exciting  suspicion.  I  sent  word  at  once  to 
the  Commandant  of  the  Citadel  to  open  the  gate  at 
midnight  and  admit  the  ruler  of  Egypt. 

'  That  very  night  my  brother  Said  rode  into  the 
old  fortress  as  Viceroy  ot  this  country.  The  artillery 
had  orders  to  defend  the  place  should  the  necessity 
arise.  Before  daybreak  we  learnt  that  El  Hami  had 
arrived  from  Damietta,  and  presently  the  Ulema  rode 
up  and  demanded  the  gates  to  be  opened  to  admit  the 
Viceroy  of  Egypt.  Said  admitted  the  learned  scribe 
into  the  audience-chamber  and  complimented  him  on 
his  zeal  in  coming  so  early  to  greet  his  new  master. 
The  Ulema  stared  as  one  bereft  of  his  senses.  Said, 
my  brother,  was  a  good-hearted  man,  and  did  not  seize 
on  this  opportunity  to  destroy  the  enemy  whom  fortune 
had  delivered  into  his  hands.  He  was  fond  of  a  little 
joke,  and  felt  that  now  he  could  afford  to  indulge  in 
one  :  a  barber  was  summoned  to  cut  off  the  Ulema's 
beard,  and  the  poor  man  was  sent  off  with  a  message 
to  Elfy  Bey  to  inform  the  latter  that  his  game  was  up, 
and  that  he  would  be  received  by  his  new  master  as 
soon  as  he  wished  to  present  himself 

'47 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

*  Elfy,  though  a  devout  Moslem,  was  not  the  man 
to  bow  to  the  decrees  of  fate — a  self-inflicted  pistol- 
shot  ended  the  career  of  the  Governor  of  Cairo  and 
Egypt's  Minister  of  War.  The  Ulema  did  not  long 
survive  the  loss  of  his  beard,  and  the  young  prince 
El  Hami  was  allowed  to  start  once  more  for  Syria  for 
the  good  of  his  health.' 

The  reader  may  now  be  curious  to  learn  how  Abbas's 
progress  from  Benha  to  Cairo  was  accomplished,  for  when 
we  left  that  prince  in  his  blood-stained  bath  his  earthly 
journey  was  doubtless  over. 

Rames  now  continues  the  narrative  : — '  By  Allah, 
the  compassionate,  the  merciful,  how  I  rode  back  to 
Benha  !  What  dangers  I  incurred  in  returning  to  that 
palace  no  one  knew  better  than  myself;  but  to  serve 
my  present  master,  Halim  Basha,  was  my  chief  thought. 
It  was  barely  ten  o'clock,  as  you  Franks  reckon  the 
time,  when  I  and  el  Dogaan  arrived.  None  of  the 
horses  in  the  stables  had  been  attended  to,  and  two  of 
them  were  missing.  I  had  hardly  been  ten  minutes 
there  when  I  was  called  and  had  to  repair  to  the  ante- 
room of  the  bath.  The  mamelukes  who  personally 
attended  our  late  Basha  had  also  been  summoned  there ; 
but  I  noticed  that  of  the  twelve  two  were  missing, 
namely  Hassan  and  Husseyn.  Their  non-appearance 
was  evidently  accounted  for  and  no  one  spoke  of  them. 
Presently  Elfy  Bey  and  the  Ulema  entered.  They 
ordered  us  to  repeat  the  profession  of  our  faith,  and 
each  one  had  to  take  an  oath  that  what  we  should  now 
see  should  not  be  revealed  to  any  living  creature.  We  all 
solemnly  swore  that  we  would  keep  the  secret,  and  then 

148 


THE    ACCESSION    OF    SAID    PASHA 

Elfy  Bey  warned  us  that  if  a  word  escaped  our  lips,  our 
tongues  should  be  torn  out  and  our  flayed  bodies  would 
hang  from  the  walls  of  Sultan  Hassan's  mosque.  He 
then  drew  back  the  curtain,  and  by  the  light  of  day  I 
again  witnessed  the  terrible  sight  of  the  previous  night. 

*  Six  mamelukes  were  ordered  to  lift  the  body  out  of 
the  bath  and  to  dress  the  mortal  remains  in  the  gar- 
ments used  on  state  occasions.  I  and  three  others  had 
to  return  to  the  stables  to  prepare  the  state  coach  and 
to  harness  six  white  horses.  When  this  was  brought 
round  to  the  door  of  the  hareem,  as  ordered,  the  body 
of  Abbas  was  placed  in  a  sitting  posture  on  the  back 
seat  of  the  carriage,  and  the  Ulema  sat  beside  it  to  hold 
it  in  position.  Elfy  Bey  and  the  favourite  eunuch  sat 
with  their  backs  to  the  horses.  A  veil  was  wound  round 
the  corpse's  turban,  and  an  embroidered  litcijn  concealed 
the  lower  part  of  the  face,  as  the  fashion  often  is  with 
the  Bedouin,  as  a  protection  from  the  dust.  Two  sat  on 
the  box  and  two  stood,  as  is  the  style  of  the  Franks, 
on  the  backboard  of  the  coach.  Six  cavaliers,  of  whom 
I  was  one,  served  as  an  escort. 

*  Such  is  the  manner  in  which  we  started  on  that 
progress  to  the  capital  !  The  fellaheen  greeted  us  as 
we  passed  through  the  villages.  I  heard  some  remark 
that  our  lord  looked  ill,  and  they  committed  him  to 
the  protection  of  Allah.  As  I  rode  el  Dogaan,  which 
is  famous  for  his  speed,  I  was  fortunately  sent  ahead 
with  the  second  messenger  to  announce  the  viceregal 
progress  to  Halim  Basha.  I  dared  not  speak  ;  but 
hoped  that  my  signs  would  be  understood.  By  night- 
fall we  reached  Cairo  and,  as  was  customary,  we  carried 

'49 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

lighted  torches  on  each  side  of  the  coach.  Thousands 
witnessed  our  progress  through  the  streets  ;  I  heard  again 
the  remark  that  the  Effendina  looked  ill,  and  there  was 
also  a  silence  amidst  the  onlookers  which  made  me 
wonder  whether  any  suspected  the  truth.  When  we 
had  passed  through  the  Bab  en-Nasr  and  were  crossing 
the  tract  of  desert  which  separates  that  gate  from  the 
palace  at  Abbasiyeh,  the  Ulema  praised  God  and  let  the 
corpse  fall  forward.  Elfy  Bey  cursed  the  old  man  and 
lifted  the  body  into  position  again. 

'  Once  inside  the  palace  there  was  nothing  further 
to  do  than  to  await  the  return  of  El  Hami  from  Dami- 
etta.  It  would  then  be  time  enough  to  announce  the 
death  of  Abbas  and  to  proclaim  his  young  son  as 
successor  to  the  viceregal  throne.  Elfy  would  then  have 
been  the  virtual  ruler  of  Egypt.  By  the  mercy  of  Allah 
his  plans  were  frustrated  and  a  bullet  ended  his  earthly 
career.  I  was  not  long  in  seeking  out  my  present 
master,  and  what  services  I  may  have  rendered  have 
been  liberally  rewarded. 

'  You  may  wish  to  know  more  of  Hassan  and 
Husseyn,  whose  disappearance  after  the  murder  I 
had  noticed.  I  have  since  heard  that  they  are  now 
in  the  service  of  Princess  Zohra,  and,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  they  were  in  her  service  before  they  ever  set 
foot  in  Egypt.' 

Zohra  had  at  last  avenged  the  death  of  her  first 
love. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

MOHAMMEDAN  FESTIVALS  :   THE  HOLY  CARPET— 
THE  FAST  OF  RAMADAN  AND  THE  ASHURA 

WOMAN  so  seldom  figures  in  the  history  of  the 
Mohammedan  world  that  when  she  appears 
in  the  long  records  of  the  khalifs,  the  emirs 
and  the  vizirs,  she  is  as  welcome  as  a  treble  solo  after  a 
prolonged  bass  chorus.  The  story  of  the  beautiful  but 
unhappy  Zohra  may  not  be  edifying  in  all  its  details, 
but  it  lifts  for  a  moment  the  veil  which  conceals 
the  hareem  life,  and  gives  us  an  insight  into  the  tragic 
events  occasionally  enacted  behind  these  closed  doors. 
The  curtain  has  bur  recently  descended  on  the  drama 
in  which  Zohra  took  a  leading  part.  If  we  change  the 
names  and  omit  a  few  details  referring  to  present  times, 
it  would  be  hard  to  believe  that  this  was  not  some  medi- 
aeval story  such  as  the  shoara  recite  in  the  market-places. 
We  have  to  go  back  to  the  thirteenth  century  to 
find  the  name  of  a  woman  who  played  an  important 
part  in  the  government  of  Egypt.  There  is  something 
refreshing  in  her  name,  Sheger-ed-Durr,  which  means 
*  The  Spray  of  Pearls,'  coming  as  it  does  amongst  the 
list  of  the  blood-stained  warriors  of  those  stirring  times. 
She  was  a  slave  who  became  the  wife  of  the  mameluke, 
Emir  es-Salih,  not  of  him  who  built  the  Fatimid  mosque 
mentioned  further  back,  but  of  the  Salih  who   founded 

'51 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

the  mameluke  dynasty  when  he  usurped  the  throne  of 
the  last  of  the  house  of  Saladin.  He  was  killed  while 
lighting  the  Crusaders  shortly  after  Sheger-ed-Durr  had 
become  his  queen.  The  heir  to  the  throne  was  a  son 
of  es-Salih  by  a  former  wife,  and  some  time  elapsed 
before  he  could  be  brought  from  the  outlying  province 
where  he  also  was  endeavouring  to  hold  the  Crusaders 
in  check.  The  widowed  queen  undertook  the  manage- 
ment of  affairs  in  the  meanwhile,  keeping  the  death  of 
her  husband  a  secret  until  the  succession  should  be 
established.  The  new  khalif,  Turan-Shah  ibn  es-Salih, 
was  not  long  on  the  throne  before  he  met  his  death  in 
a  brawl,  and  Sheger-ed-Durr  once  more  took  up  the 
reins  of  government.  She  sank  her  identity  in  that  of 
her  baby  son,  and  ruled  under  the  title  of '  Mother  of 
the  victorious  King  Khalil.' 

While  this  baby  king's  victories  were  confined  to 
the  nursery,  his  mother's  generals  were  defeating  the 
Crusaders  in  every  part  of  his  dominions.  The  battle 
of  Mansura  decided  the  fate  of  the  last  Crusade,  and 
Louis  IX.  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Emir  Beybars. 
The  mother  of  Khalil  arranged  the  ransom  which 
was  paid  to  release  the  King  of  France;  and,  though 
not  in  name,  she  in  fact  governed  the  country  during 
some  seven  or  eight  years.  The  baby  king  died,  and 
Mohammedan  prejudice  could  not  brook  a  woman 
at  the  head  of  affairs.  The  khalif  of  Baghdad  was 
appealed  to,  and  a  husband  was  chosen  for  her  in  the 
person  of  Aybek.  It  appears  that  she  ruled  her  husband 
with  as  firm  a  hand  as  she  ruled  her  country.  But  this 
rule  was  not  of  long  duration.      '  Like  a  true  woman,' 

152 


A  FRUIT-STALL  AT  BULAK 


THE    HOLY    CARPET 

says  Stanley-Lane  Poole,  '  she  could  be  jealous  ;  she 
made  him  divorce  another  wife,  and  when  Aybek 
ventured  to  propose  a  fresh  marriage  with  a  princess  of 
Mosil,  the  queen  gave  way  to  a  regrettable  act  of  resent- 
ment ;  having  lured  him  by  fair  words  to  the  Citadel — 
the  facts  unhappily  can't  be  softened — she  had  him 
murdered  in  his  bath  ' — not  unlike  Zohra's  vengeance 
of  six  centuries  later.  'Her  punishment  was  speedy  and 
terrible.  In  three  days  all  was  over.  The  mamelukes 
shut  her  up  in  the  Red  Tower,  where  she  vindictively 
pounded  her  jewels  in  a  mortar  that  they  might  adorn 
no  other  woman,  and  then  she  was  dragged  before  the 
wife  whom  she  had  made  Aybek  divorce,  and  there  and 
then  beaten  to  death  with  the  women's  clogs.  For 
days  her  body  lay  in  the  Citadel  ditch  for  the  curs  to 
worry,  till  some  good  Samaritan  buried  it.  Her  tomb 
may  be  seen  beside  the  chapel  of  Sitta  Nefisa,  and  a 
pious  hand  of  these  latter  days  has  shrouded  it  with  a 
cloth  on  which  the  Arabic  name  "  Spray  of  Pearls  "  is 
worked  in  gold.' 

The  object  of  the  present  writer  is  not  the  ambitious 
one  of  attempting  a  history  of  Egypt,  but  to  gi\'e  a 
simple  account  of  such  things  as  he  saw  and  heard 
while  in  pursuit  of  his  work  as  an  artist.  The  story  of 
Zohra  is  still  told  in  the  bazaars,  and  the  professional 
reciter  still  entertains  his  audience  with  the  doings  of 
Sheger-ed-Durr.  This  queen  has  also  a  bearing  on  that 
vexed  question  of  the  origin  of  the  Holy  Carpet.  The 
departure  of  the  Mahnial  and  its  return  from  Mekka 
are  the  two  events  in  Cairo  which  annually  excite  the 
greatest  interest. 


AN    ARTIST    IN     EGYPT 

The  hodag^  or  the  gorgeous  covered  htter  borne  by 
a  camel,  is  usually  taken  by  the  foreign  sightseers  to 
be  the  covering  of  the  Holy  Carpet  which  is  destined 
to  be  placed  on  the  Kaabah  at  Mekka.  There  is  little 
wonder  that  this  should  be  so,  for  it  is  by  far  the  most 
striking  object  in  the  procession.  It  does  not,  however, 
contain  the  carpet,  or  for  that  matter  anything  else.  Its 
origin  dates  from  the  pilgrimage  which  '  The  Spray  of 
Pearls '  made  to  the  Holy  City  six  centuries  and  a  half 
ago  ;  and  though  she  is  only  reported  to  have  gone 
once,  her  camel  and  litter  were  yearly  sent  to  represent 
her.  The  original  hood  of  this  litter  has  since  been 
replaced,  and  the  Mahmal,  as  it  is  called,  has  ever  since 
been  sent  with  the  pilgrims  to  represent  Royalty  at  the 
yearly  hagg. 

I  have  had  the  good  fortune  to  see  the  procession 
of  the  Mahmal  several  times,  both  on  its  starting  for 
Mekka  and  on  its  return  to  Cairo.  The  Kiswe/i^  as 
the  carpet  itself  is  called,  is  taken  in  four  separate  pieces, 
which  are  enclosed  in  boxes  and  borne  by  camels. 
Though  handsome  cloths  cover  these  boxes,  and  the 
trappings  of  the  camels  are  magnificent,  they  yet  look  far 
less  important  than  the  empty  litter  which  precedes  them. 

A  new  carpet,  or,  properly  speaking,  a  new  covering 
for  the  Kaabah  is  annually  made,  and,  when  the  fast  of 
Ramadan  is  over,  its  component  parts  are  deposited  in 
the  mosque  of  the  Hasaneyn,  there  to  remain  for  the 
few  weeks  which  elapse  before  the  pilgrimage  sets  out. 

When  the  great  day  arrives,  all  Cairo  assembles  in 
the  large  open  space  on  the  south  of  the  Citadel  walls, 
and  east  of  the  great  mosques  of  Sultan  Hassan  and  of 

154 


THE    HOLY    CARPET 

el  Rifaiya.  His  Highness  the  Khedive  and  all  the 
great  state  functionaries  are  here,  and  smart  up-to-date 
soldiers  keep  back  the  crowds  of  sightseers  to  make 
way  for  as  picturesque  and  truly  oriental  a  spectacle  as 
any  one  could  wish  to  see.  I  confess  that  familiarity 
has  in  this  case  robbed  the  proceedings  of  some  of  its 
charm  ;  for  I  have  seen  and  sketched  some  of  these 
camels  in  their  gorgeous  trappings  when  they  have 
done  duty  at  weddings,  and  also  in  the  courtyard  of  the 
man  who  hires  them  out.  The  pictorial  effect  is  there, 
however,  none  the  less.  I  have  enjoyed  it  more  while 
seeing  it  pass  through  the  old  mediaeval  streets,  or  file 
out  into  the  desert  through  the  Bab  en-Nasr.  Until 
quite  recently  its  route  lay  through  the  passes  in  the 
Mokattam  hills,  and  by  the  desert  track  which  leads  to 
Suez.  It  is  now  taken  by  train  to  Alexandria,  and 
shipped  to  jiddeh,  as  the  nearest  port  to  the  Holy 
City. 

My  illustration  to  this  chapter  is  the  return  journey 
to  Cairo,  and  though  I  may  have  taken  some  liberties 
with  the  background,  it  will  give  some  idea  of  its  aspect 
during  its  desert  march.  My  picture  of  the  marriage 
procession  in  the  earlier  part  of  this  book  shows  some 
of  the  properties  which  figure  in  this  yearly  spectacle. 

As  the  Mohammedan  year  is  composed  of  lunar 
months,  it  is  eleven  days  short  of  the  year  as  we  under- 
stand it.  Thus  these  and  all  other  religious  festivals 
are  set  back  eleven  days  annually.  When,  in  the  course 
of  time,  the  pilgrims  will  start  on  their  journey  during 
the  summer  months,  few  foreigners  will  have  an 
opportunitv    to    see    this    picturesque    pageant.       The 

'55 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

Great  Beiram  will  also  fell  during  the  time  when  Cairo 
is  empty  of  visitors,  and  this  is  the  most  important 
holiday  in  the  Mohammedan  world.  It  is  the  day  of 
the  sacrificial  feast  which  the  pilgrims  partake  of  in 
Mekka  after  they  have  heard  the  sermon  on  Mount 
Arafat.  As  this  impressive  gathering  on  the  holy  mount 
is  only  to  be  witnessed  by  the  followers  of  the  Prophet, 
we  must  content  ourselves  with  seeing  all  we  can  of  its 
commemoration  in  more  accessible  places.  The  Lesser 
Beiram,  with  which  we  must  not  confuse  it,  is  the  holiday 
and  feastings  which  follow  the  last  day  of  the  fast  of 
Ramadan.  To  be  spared  the  month  of  Ramadan  is  a 
loss  no  visitor  need  regret.  He  will  not  be  much  aware 
of  it  in  his  modern  hotel,  where  Prankish  servants  may 
eat  and  drink  their  fill  ;  but  should  his  occupation  lie 
amongst  the  natives,  he  will  indeed  rejoice  when  the 
last  orun  is  lired  to  herald  the  advent  of  the  Lesser 
Beiram. 

As  in  many  other  matters,  this  fast  falls  much  more 
heavily  on  the  poor  than  on  the  rich.  The  well-to-do 
can  pass  most  of  the  hours,  between  the  rising  and  the 
setting  of  the  sun,  in  sleep  or  in  their  cool  and  com- 
paratively dustless  homes.  But  just  think  what  a  long 
day  spent  in  the  sun  and  the  dust  must  be  to  a  man 
who  may  not  let  a  drop  of  water  pass  his  lips  !  The 
callous  remark  that  they  are  used  to  it  is  nonsense. 
They  are  used  to  a  drink  of  water  whenever  they  feel 
inclined  during  the  eleven  months  preceding  the  fast, 
and  this  must  quite  have  broken  the  habit  of  a  rigid 
abstinence. 

I  spent  one  Ramadan  in  the  camp  of  the  Egyptian 

156 


THE    FAST    OF    RAMADAN 

Exploration  Fund,  and  have  seen  two  or  three  hundred 
men  and  boys  working  the  whole  day  in  a  perpetual 
dust.  What  their  cravings  for  a  drink  of  water  must 
have  been  was  easily  imagined  ;  for  though  I  worked 
in  the  shade  and  as  far  from  the  excavation  dust  as  I 
could,  the  dry  desert  air  often  induced  me  to  have  a 
pull  at  the  water-bottle.  Mr.  Currelly,  who  directed 
the  work,  was  considerate  enough  to  alter  the  hours, 
when  we  appreciated  how  these  men  suffered;  and  by 
starting  at  daybreak  and  working  till  dark,  a  long  rest 
during  the  extreme  heat  of  the  day  was  permissible. 

In  the  streets  and  bazaars  of  Cairo  the  fast  seems 
to  affect  the  tempers  of  the  people  even  more  than  the 
hamsee?i  is  wont  to  do.  Quarrels  are  much  more 
frequent,  and  the  only  occasion  when  I  had  a  serious 
row  with  a  native  which  might  have  led  to  very  un- 
pleasant consequences  was  during  Ramadan. 

I  had  secured  a  comfortable  seat  on  the  mastaba 
of  a  little  shop  and  was  painting  a  fruit-stall  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  road.  My  man  Mohammed 
induced  the  woman  who  kept  the  stall  to  pose  to  me 
while  she  squatted  amidst  the  apples  and  oranges  which 
she  sold.  The  usual  bargaining  took  place  between 
my  man  and  the  woman,  and  inquisitive  neighbours 
were  interested  as  usual  in  the  proceedings.  When  it 
was  agreed  that  she  would  pose  for  about  the  value  of 
her  whole  stock  in  trade,  I  set  to  work.  She  was  a 
young  woman  and  wore  no  face-veil,  which  suggested 
that  she  was  of  easy  virtue.  I  was,  however,  more 
concerned  with  my  drawing  than  with  the  morals  of 
my  model.      A   rough-looking   fellow   prescntlv  started 

'57 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

an  altercation  with  her,  and  as  he  stood  between  me 
and  my  subject,  I  told  Mohammed  to  ask  him  to 
stand  aside.  It  appeared  that  the  man  objected  to 
the  woman  being  painted,  and  he  turned  furiously  on 
Mohammed  when  the  latter  tried  to  induce  him  to 
move  on.  Had  I  then  had  Mahmood  as  a  servant, 
he  would  have  made  short  work  of  my  interrupter  ;  but 
Mohammed  had  neither  the  courage  nor  the  physical 
strength  for  such  strong  measures.  Gentle  persuasion 
had  no  effect  on  the  brute,  and  he  suddenly  ended  his 
arguments  with  my  model  by  giving  her  a  violent  slap 
on  her  cheek.  He  then  rushed  across  to  where  I  was 
sitting  and  roughly  sat  down  beside  me.  I  was  new 
to  Cairo  then  and  could  not  understand  what  he  said, 
and  I  put  my  materials  aside  before  attempting  to  rid 
myself  of  my  unpleasant  neighbour.  Leaning  over  me 
he  stuck  his  fingers  right  on  to  my  drawing,  and  was 
rewarded  by  a  blow  in  his  ribs  which  sent  him  sprawling 
on  to  the  road.  That  was  one  for  touching  my  drawing 
and  two  for  the  slap  on  the  woman's  cheek. 

Personal  courage  is  not  a  characteristic  of  the 
Egyptians ;  but  when  they  '  see  red,'  as  they  describe  it, 
they  become  like  raving  madmen.  A  crowd  collected 
before  the  man  had  hardly  picked  himself  up,  and  I 
did  not  at  once  know  what  the  attitude  of  the  crowd 
towards  myself  might  be.  Mohammed's  persuasive 
powers  were  of  good  service  now,  and  several  onlookers 
held  back  the  man,  who  made  frantic  efforts  to  get  at 
me.  He  then  ran  back  to  the  shop,  and  picking  up 
the  thickest  piece  of  sugar-cane,  he  yelled  out  his 
curses    and   made   another    rush    at   me.      The   crowd 

158 


THE    FAST    OF    RAMADAN 

seemed  happily  to  side  with  the  Nusranee,  or  possibly 
wished  to  prevent  the  Moslem  from  getting  into  further 
trouble.  However  that  might  have  been,  the  man  was 
well  guarded  until  I  could  get  away. 

Mohammed  had  doubtless  been  of  great  service  to 
me  ;  he  had  most  likely  lied  to  the  crowd  that  I  was  a 
nephew  of  Lord  Cromer's,  or  son-in-law  to  the  head  of 
the  police,  as  I  found  out  on  later  occasions  that  he  had 
inspired  a  certain  respect  for  me  by  similar  falsehoods. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  I  was  fortunate  to  have  got  out  of 
the  row  as  well  as  I  had.  But  why  should  Mohammed 
have  been  so  alarmed  when  I  insisted  on  his  going  with 
me  to  the  nearest  police-court  ?  He  was  about  to  turn 
tail  when  we  reached  the  entrance  ;  I  was,  however,  in 
no  mood  to  argue  the  matter — he  should  either  come 
in  or  leave  my  service. 

The  Moslem  magistrate  and  his  clerks  fortunately 
spoke  French,  and  I  was  able  to  state  my  case.  They 
questioned  Mohammed  in  Arabic,  and  he,  having  got 
over  his  fears  of  the  police-court,  gave  a  fair  account  of 
what  had  taken  place.  I  was  assured  that  the  man 
would  be  found,  and  that  I  should  hear  again  from  them 
before  long. 

I  returned  the  next  day  to  the  fruit-stall,  and  made 
some  compensation  to  the  woman  for  the  slap  on  her 
cheek  of  which  I  had  been  the  innocent  cause  ;  but 
nothing  would  persuade  her  to  sit  to  me  any  more. 
When  I  got  to  work  she  closed  up  her  shop  and 
departed.  I  consoled  myself,  while  I  put  in  the  detail 
of  the  inusln'biych  oriel  which  projected  over  her 
closed  shutters,  that  the  solatium  I  had  given  her  would 

'59 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

more  than  cover  any  loss  of  custom  during  a  Ramadan 
morning.  When  an  Arab  in  the  poorer  quarters  buys 
an  orange,  it  is  for  immediate  consumption.  To  be 
seen  buying  one,  unless  just  before  or  after  the  gun 
announces  the  setting  of  the  sun,  would  awaken  sus- 
picions as  to  the  orthodoxy  of  the  purchaser.  A  stray 
Jew  or  Copt  might  turn  up  as  a  customer  ;  but  the 
chances  were  slight,  as  we  were  far  from  either  the 
Jewish  or  Coptic  quarters. 

I  had  to  finish  my  fruit-shop  as  best  I  could  from 
other  studies,  and  find  another  woman  to  help  me 
to  finish  the  figure. 

Days  went  by,  and  I  heard  nothing  further  about 
my  aggressor,  and  concluded  that  either  he  had  not  been 
found,  or  that  my  statement  had  been  pigeon-holed, 
and  its  existence  forgotten.  I  was  anyhow  singularly 
free  from  interruptions  when  I  worked  in  the  street 
where  I  had  been  molested,  and  did  not  much  mind  if 
I  heard  no  more  about  it.  After  a  fortnight  or  so,  I 
received  a  letter  from  the  British  consulate,  telling  me 
to  appear  at  the  police-court  on  such  and  such  a  day. 
I  went  at  the  appointed  time,  and  waited  in  the 
magistrate's  office  until  my  case  should  come  on.  The 
clerk  was  pleased  to  air  his  French,  and  tell  me  about 
the  prisoner,  and  the  punishment  he  would  probably 
undergo.  Had  he  called  me  a  Kelh  ?  seemed  a  matter 
of  great  import.  He  had  probably  called  me  the  '  son 
of  a  doe '  ;  but  I  was  more  concerned  at  the  time  as  to 
what  he  would  do  with  the  thick  cane  than  hurt  by 
these  reflections  on  my  parentage.  I  was  asked  if  I 
would  go  into  the  hall  and  see  the  man,  and  I  did   so. 

1 60 


THE    FAST    OF    RAMADAN 

I  not  only  found  him  there,  in  the  custody  of  a  poHce- 
man,  but  I  was  introduced  to  a  crowd  of  his  relations. 
One  and  all  beseeched  me  to  let  him  off,  and  Moham- 
med told  a  woeful  tale  of  how  many  were  dependent 
on  the  loafer's  earnings.  The  starvation  of  a  numerous 
offspring  would  be  laid  to  my  account  should  the 
prisoner  be  prevented  from  loafing  in  his  own  particular 
manner.  The  tears  of  his  mother  had  some  effect — 
but  what  could  I  do  ?  I  did  not  run  this  show,  I  got 
Mohammed  to  explain,  and  the  decision  must  rest 
with  the  magistrate.  I  would,  however,  make  as  light 
of  the  case  as  I  could,  seeing  that  it  was  during  Ramadan 
that  it  happened.  There  being  no  skirt  to  my  garments, 
the  old  mother  had  a  try  at  kissing  the  hem  of  my 
trousers,  and  as  to  the  prisoner  himself,  I  could  hardly 
recognise  in  the  poor  lachrymose  creature  the  furious 
ruffian  of  the  fruit-stall. 

The  result  of  all  this  pleading  put  me  in  the  unusual 
position  (when  our  case  was  called)  of  advocate  for  the 
defence  rather  than  that  of  the  prosecutor.  When  the 
man  got  off  with  sixteen  days,  I  had  to  slip  away 
quickly  to  avoid  the  marks  of  gratitude  from  his  rela- 
tions. The  part  which  struck  me  as  odd  was  that 
none  of  his  sentence  was  due  to  his  violent  slap  of  the 
poor  woman's  cheek.  She  was  not  his  wife,  I  explained 
to  the  clerk  while  I  waited  in  the  office.  '  There  had 
been  matrimonial  relations  of  a  sort,'  he  explained,  and 
he  seemed  to  hold  that  that  might  cover  his  right  to 
administer  corporal  punishment.  It  was  my  first  season 
in  Egypt,  so  I  had  still  much  to  learn. 

Had  the  sixteen  days  of  my  aggressor's  confinement 

X  i6i 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

been  passed  while  the  fast  lasted,  it  would  have  been  a 
light  sentence.  But  Ramadan  was  now  far  spent,  and 
the  term  lasted  over  the  holidays  of  the  Lesser  Beiram. 
That  must  have  been  a  bitter  pill  for  him  to  swallow, 
for  there  are  great  rejoicings  and  feastings  on  the  first 
day  of  Shauwal.  Except  those  under  lock  and  key,  few 
Arabs  sit  down  to  a  meal  where  a  bit  of  mutton  does 
not  enrich  their  stew. 

Some  months  after,  while  I  passed  through  the  street 
of  my  fruit-shop,  I  noticed  a  man  smiling  at  me,  and 
making  his  salaams  ;  I  seemed  to  remember  his  face, 
though  I  could  not  quite  place  him.  I  asked  Moham- 
med who  my  acquaintance  might  be,  and  he  said, 
'  Do  you  not  remember  the  man  you  had  put  in 
prison  .? ' 

I  have  met  with  many  cases  since,  where  an  Egyptian 
has  been  justly  punished,  and  has  shown  as  little  resent- 
ment. I  have  asked  large  employers  of  labour  as  to 
whether  any  spiteful  action  ever  followed  to  the  master 
who  had  sent  one  of  his  men  to  the  lock-up.  I  was 
told  that  acts  of  vengeance  were  common  enough  ;  but 
never  in  a  case  where  punishment  was  merited.  They 
are  not  slow  to  wrath,  but  the  sun  seldom  goes  down 
on  their  anger.  I  have  known  cases,  however,  where 
some  fellah  having  been  grossly  cheated,  and  not 
being  able  to  get  justice  in  the  courts,  has  nursed  his 
revenge  for  a  long  while.  A  burning  stack  or  a  lighted 
thatch  may  be  so  long  after  the  first  wrong  that  suspi- 
cion may  fall  on  others  than  the  incendiary.  '  Never 
hurry  your  revenge  ;  it  will  be  just  as  sweet  in  two  years' 
time,'  is  a  saying  amongst  the  fellaheen  ;   but  nothing 

162 


THE    FAST    OF    RAMADAN 

but  the  grossest  injustice  will  excite  this  passion  in  so 
light-hearted  a  people. 

It  is  a  matter  of  congratulation  to  every  one  in 
Mohammedan  countries,  whether  he  be  a  follower  of 
the  Prophet  or  not,  when  the  festivities  of  Shauwfd 
announce  that  the  fast  of  Ramadan  is  over. 

The  streets  are  full  of  colour  during  the  first  days 
of  the  month  of  Shauwal.  Parents  take  their  children 
from  house  to  house  to  show  them  off  in  their  new 
garments  ;  for  all  who  can  possibly  afford  it  cast  off 
their  old  clothes  at  the  end  of  the  fast  and  appear  in 
new  ones  to  enjoy  the  feast.  Primitive  merry-go-rounds 
are  erected  in  the  vacant  spaces,  and  the  various  eatables 
appropriate  to  the  Little  Beiram  are  on  sale  every- 
where. The  rich  give  of  their  substance  to  the  needy, 
and  happy  faces  contrast  pleasantly  with  the  saddened 
looks  so  frequent  during  the  great  fast. 

There  is  a  pause  in  the  festivals  during  the  month  of 
el-Kaadeh,  which  follows  Shauwill,  and  el-Heggeh,  which 
is  the  last  month  of  the  Mohammedan  year,  makes  up 
for  this  in  the  excitements  pertaining  to  the  Mekka 
pilgrimage.  The  Great  Beiram,  or  the  '  Eed  el-Kebir,' 
as  it  is  called  by  the  Egyptians,  falls  on  the  tenth  day 
and  it  lasts  during  the  three  following  ones.  Its  advent 
is  noticeable  from  the  flocks  of  sheep  and  goats  and  also 
the  buffaloes  which  enter  Cairo  from  the  fertile  plains 
of  the  Delta.  Sheep  are  brought  round  to  the  bazaars 
to  sell  to  the  merchants  who  may  not  wish  to  attend 
the  markets,  and  they  are  frequently  to  be  seen  tethered 
outside  the  stalls  in  the  poorer  quarters,  where  they 
are    fitted   for   the  sacrifice  which    takes    place  at    the 

163 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

same  hour  as  the  one  offered  up  by  the  pilgrims  at 
Mekka. 

Almsgiving  is  an  important  duty  and  is  well 
observed  in  the  Mohammedan  world  :  on  the  tenth 
day  of  el-Heggeh  those  who  cannot  afford  a  sheep 
partake  of  the  sacrificial  offerings  of  their  well-to-do 
neighbours. 

The  new  garments  of  the  Lesser  Beiram  appear 
again  on  the  greater  festival,  and  the  gaily  coloured 
dresses  of  the  children  once  more  enliven  the  streets. 
For  three  days  all  business  is  at  a  standstill,  and  merry- 
making and  religious  exercises  go  on  all  the  while. 
On  the  third  night  it  is  usual  to  visit  the  tombs  of  the 
deceased  relatives  —  a  less  mournful  ending  to  the 
festivities  than  might  be  supposed.  The  approaches 
to  the  cemeteries  are  gay  with  booths  and  tents,  rigged 
up  either  for  entertainments  or  for  religious  zikrs. 
Should  the  festival  fall  during  the  hot  season  the  tomb 
visiting  is  somewhat  of  an  all-night  picnic. 

Moharram  is  the  month  which  follows  the  last,  and 
with  it  begins  the  Mohammedan  year.  The  tenth  day 
is  called  the  Ashura,  and  an  event  which  takes  place  on 
the  evening  of  that  day  is  not  easily  forgotten  by  any 
strangers  who  may  happen  to  have  witnessed  it.  The 
Sheeas  in  Cairo  (mostly  Persians)  then  commemorate 
the  death  of  Husseyn,  the  twin  brother  of  Hassan  and 
grandson  of  the  Prophet.  They  claim  that  as  Hassan 
had  died,  the  succession  should  have  continued  through 
Husseyn  and  his  son,  Ali  Akbar,  after  him  ;  whereas  the 
Sunnees  claim  that  as  Abubekr  was  chosen  by  the 
Prophet  himself  as  his  successor,  Abubekr's  descendants 

164 


THE    ASHURA 

had  a  claim  prior  to  that  of  Mohammed's  actual  blood  re- 
lations. This  caused  the  great  split  in  the  Mohammedan 
world.  The  Sunnees  revere  the  memory  of  the  twin 
brothers,  and  the  festival  which  takes  place  on  their 
birthday  is  one  of  the  great  events  in  orthodox  Egypt. 

The  Sheeas  commemorate  the  day  of  Husseyn's 
death,  which  he  met  on  the  field  of  Kerbala  while 
fighting  the  usurper  of  his  rights  to  the  Khalifue. 
That  they  should  do  so  in  Persia  is  easily  understood  ; 
but  that  they  should  be  allowed  to  parade  the  streets  of 
Cairo  and  proclaim  their  heresy  to  the  crowds  of 
orthodox  Sunnees,  speaks  well  for  the  toleration  of  the 
latter.  It  is  true  that  the  police  rope  the  streets  through 
which  the  procession  passes,  and  a  large  body  of  them 
guard  the  processionists  from  molestation.  But  were 
the  fanaticism  of  the  populace  really  stirred,  the  events 
which  I  witnessed  could  never  take  place. 

I  got  a  seat  in  a  coffee-shop  close  to  the  Hasaneyn 
mosque  about  an  hour  after  sunset  ;  and  although  the 
Persians  would  not  be  allowed  to  enter  the  mosque 
itself,  I  felt  sure  that  their  enthusiasm  would  be  stirred 
to  the  highest  pitch  when  they  passed  by  the  shrine 
where  the  head  of  Husseyn  is  said  to  be  buried. 

Crowds  of  people  awaited  alongside  the  route  which 
the  Sheeas  would  take  ;  the  display  of  so  much  heresy 
seemed  to  trouble  them  very  little,  and,  like  myself, 
they  looked  forward  to  an  evening's  entertainment. 
The  street  was  not  lighted  up  as  on  the  day  of  the 
birth  of  the  twin  brothers,  so  that  the  light  which 
presently  appeared  at  the  further  end  of  the  street 
attracted  the  attention  of  every  one  at  once. 

165 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

A  number  of  flaming  cressets  lit  up  the  grey  houses 
where  the  procession  turned  from  out  the  Mousky  into 
the  Hasaneyn  street.  As  it  approached,  the  short  jerky 
chorus  of  the  men  was  more  often  repeated  :  '  Hassan, 
Husseyn  !  Hassan,  Husseyn  ! '  The  shouts  got  wilder 
and  more  frequent  as  the  procession  drew  near  to  the 
mosque.  The  first  to  pass  us  was  a  man  on  horseback, 
who  harangued  the  crowd  during  an  interval  in  the 
chorus.  He  told  of  how  the  young  Husseyn  died  in 
fighting  for  his  faith  and  against  the  usurper  of  his 
throne.  The  crowd  seemed  as  little  inclined  to  con- 
tradict him  as  I  was,  although  a  few  murmurs  of  dissent 
came  from  some  who  sat  on  the  bench  beside  me.  The 
men  who  carried  the  flaming  cressets  followed  next, 
and  then  several  mounted  policemen.  These  were  not 
necessarily  Sheeas,  but  were  there  to  preserve  the 
heretics  from  any  hostile  demonstrations  on  the  part 
of  onlookers.  A  number  of  men  carrying  tall  banners 
and  others  with  more  cressets  followed  the  guardians  of 
the  law.  Two  led  horses  between  a  long  double  file 
of  Persians  carrying  lanterns  were  the  next  objects  of 
interest,  for  these  horses  represented  the  twin  sons  of 
Ali,  who  both  were  killed  while  mounted  on  their 
steeds. 

The  ever-increasing  noise  at  the  further  end  of  the 
procession  prepared  me  somewhat  for  an  exciting  scene  ; 
but  I  hardly  expected  the  gruesome  sight  which  now 
followed,  A  number  of  men,  some  half-clad  and 
others  in  long  white  garments,  were  literally  streaming 
with  blood.  They  carried  naked  swords,  with  which 
they    occasionally    slashed    their     foreheads,    and     the 

1 66 


THE    ASHURA 

white  garments  which  caught  the  jets  of  blood  seemed 
as  if  they  had  been  worn  with  the  purpose  of  making 
the  sight  more  ghastly.  Some  swayed  as  if  about  to 
fall,  and  had  hardly  any  voice  left  to  shout  the  names  of 
their  heroes.  Others,  in  a  state  of  frenzy,  brandished 
their  swords  and  shouted,  '  Hassan  !   Husseyn  ! ' 

We  were  so  near  some  of  these  men  in  the  narrow 
street  that  I  had  to  withdraw  my  legs  so  as  not  to  touch 
their  blood-stained  garments.  They  wore  no  turbans, 
and  the  awful  wounds  on  their  close-shaven  heads  made 
me  feel  sick.  There  were  some  without  swords  who 
preferred  to  flog  their  naked  bodies  with  chains,  and 
though  this  ordeal  may  have  been  worse  than  the  other, 
it  was,  at  any  rate,  less  gruesome  to  behold.  A  small 
boy  on  a  led  white  horse  followed,  and  blood  ran  down 
his  face  and  stained  his  white  robes.  I  felt  indignant 
that  a  child  should  take  part  in  this  ghastly  orgy  ;  but 
a  suspicion  that  the  blood  had  been  skilfully  placed 
there  before  the  procession  had  started  cooled  my 
indignation. 

I  witnessed  the  above  some  fifteen  years  ago,  and  it 
is  possible  that  some  of  the  worst  features  may  have 
been  modified.  It  might  well  be  prohibited,  for  these 
Sheeas  are  strangers  in  the  land,  and  no  orthodox 
Egyptian  could  object  to  the  prohibition  of  practices 
carried  on  by  those  whom  they  consider  heretics. 
When  the  Doseh  was  stopped  soon  after  the  British 
occupation,  it  was  a  much  greater  interference  with  the 
religion  of  the  people,  for  the  Doseh  was  not  a  Sheea 
practice  ;  it  was,  on  the  contrary,  one  of  the  great 
events  during  the  Moo/ic/  e?i-Nebi^  the  birthday  of  the 

167 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

Prophet.  It  was  a  barbaric  performance  and  many 
people  were  seriously  injured,  though  to  this  day 
Moslems  have  tried  to  assure  me  that  when  the  Sheykh 
rode  over  the  prostrate  bodies  of  the  faithful,  none  were 
injured  by  the  horse's  hoofs,  and  all  received  great 
blessings  through  this  act  of  faith.  They  have,  how- 
ever, quietly  submitted  to  the  prohibition  of  being 
trampled  on,  and  would  doubtless  raise  no  objection 
to  the  heretics  living  in  this  country  being  similarly 
prohibited  from  practising  the  barbarities  of  the  Ashura. 

Towards  the  end  of  Safar,  the  second  month,  the 
return  of  the  Mekka  caravan  may  be  expected,  and  we 
again  witness  the  picturesque  procession  of  the  Mahmal 
which  has  been  described. 

The  third  month,  or  Rabeea  el-Owwal,  is  the  month 
of  the  Prophet.  His  birth  and  death  are  both  said  to 
have  taken  place  on  the  twelfth  day  ;  and  any  one 
wishing  to  see  as  much  of  the  life  and  character  of  the 
Egyptians  as  possible  will  find  something  of  interest 
during  the  first  two  weeks  of  that  month.  With  the 
exception  of  the  Doseh,  all  the  ceremonies  which  Lane 
describes  as  having  taken  place  in  his  day  may  now  be  seen 
during  the  latter  end  of  the  tourist  season,  for  the  first 
day  of  the  Mohammedan  year  1330  was  on  the  twenty- 
second  day  of  December  191 1.  Three  lunar  months 
added  to  that  date  takes  us  into  the  middle  of  March 
19 1 2.  As  these  dates  get  a  set-back  of  eleven  days 
each  year,  visitors  in  the  near  future  will  not  have  to 
wait  to  as  late  a  date  to  assist  in  the  festivities  of  the 
Moolid  en-Nebi. 

If  not  pressed  for  time  and  a  certain  amount  of  heat 

168 


A  THEBAN   HOMESTEAD 


MOHAMMEDAN    FESTIVALS 

can  be  borne,  both  April  and  May  are  delightful 
months  in  Egypt,  always  excepting  the  days  of  kamseen. 
Apart  from  this  festival  (which  then  fell  in  April) 
modern  Cairo  is  beautified  with  its  numerous  blossoming 
trees.  The  trying  hot  winds  cease  early  in  May,  and 
though  that  month  is,  I  admit,  a  hot  one,  I  consider  it 
and  also  June  to  be  the  months  when  the  painter  may 
do  his  best  work  in  Egypt. 


CHAPTER    XV 

MORE  RELIGIOUS  OBSERVANCES,  SPRING'S  AWAKENING, 
AND  THE  CAIRENE  HOUSE  OF  COUNT  ZOGHEB 

THE  religious  observances,  the  festivals,  and  the 
superstitions  of  Islam  have  been  so  fiilly  described 
by  Lane  that  it  seems  presumptuous  to  attempt 
to  do  so  here.  But  they  are  so  intimately  associated 
with  the  life  and  character  of  the  Egyptians  that  it  is 
impossible  to  describe  the  people  amongst  whom  I 
have  so  long  lived  without  referring  to  these  observances. 
From  the  first  day  of  the  month  of  the  Prophet  every 
street  and  bazaar  in  Cairo  show  some  signs  that  the 
Moolid  en-Nebi  will  soon  be  on  us.  Bands  of  dervishes, 
carrying  the  banners  of  the  sects  to  which  they  belong, 
make  happy  incidents  in  the  streets  through  which  they 
pass.  Should  we  go  past  a  dervish  tekke  the  sound  of 
a  zikr  will  be  heard  ;  and  should  we  be  bold  enough  to 
peep  in  we  may  see  a  group  of  men  swaying  backwards 
and  forwards,  and  hear  them  repeat  in  unison  the  name 
of  Allah  till  physical  exhaustion  causes  a  pause.  Queer- 
looking  fakirs  beg  for  alms  in  the  name  of  the  Prophet  ; 
and  whether  they  have  lain  low  during  ordinary  times 
and  only  donned  their  rags  for  the  great  occasion,  I 
cannot  tell,  but  they  turn  up  now  like  butterflies  on 
a  fine  spring  morning. 

It  is  pleasant  to  wander  about  the  streets  of  the  old 

170 


MORE    RELIGIOUS    OBSERVANCES 

quarters  after  sunset.  Their  usual  dark  and  deserted 
appearance  is  enlivened  here  and  there  by  a  display  of 
lanterns  hung  beneath  a  marvellously  patterned  awning, 
and  one's  curiosity  is  incited  to  know  with  what 
thrilling  romance  the  shder  is  engaging  the  attention 
of  his  audience.  It  is  also  curious  to  find  men  who, 
after  the  religious  excitement  of  a  zikr^  will  sit  in 
ecstasies  in  the  little  theatres  while  the  sensuous  dance 
of  the  g/iazeeye/i  is  performed.  Arabic  music  can 
also  be  heard  at  its  best.  Incomprehensible  at  first,  as 
a  strange  language  to  the  foreigner,  it  has  a  subtle 
charm  which  increases  as  the  sounds  become  more 
familiar.  A  dark  lane,  where  one  or  two  small  lanterns 
mark  the  entrances  of  some  old  mameluke  palaces,  may 
of  a  sudden  be  lighted  at  one  end  by  the  approach  of 
a  band  of  dervishes  carrying  now  flaming  cressets  in 
lieu  of  the  banners  we  may  have  seen  in  the  daytime. 

I  neglected  the  old  quarters,  during  my  last  stay 
in  Cairo,  when  the  month  of  the  Prophet  was  on  us. 
The  commonplace,  but  luxurious,  modern  quarters  were 
made  glorious  by  the  wreath  of  blossoming  shrubs  and 
trees  which  adorned  them.  The  Esbekiyeh  gardens, 
which  I  usually  avoid,  were  a  great  attraction  to  me 
then.  A  large  and  rather  gimcrack  grotto,  which  I 
thought  a  horror  during  the  winter,  was  now  almost 
smothered  by  the  gorgeous  blossom  of  the  bougainvillea. 
Seldom  have  I  seen  such  an  orgy  of  colour.  I  made 
some  studies  of  it  which  I  have  since  found  useful ;  but 
I  should  then  have  left  the  bougainvillea  severely  alone. 
I  heard  of  a  fine  display  of  its  blossom  in  the  zoological 
gardens,  where  I  knew  that  the  small  entrance  fee  as 

171 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

well  as  the  other  attractions  would  allow  me  to  work 
with  less  of  an  admiring  crowd.  Captain  Flower  (to 
whom  we  are  indebted  for  having  made  this  collection 
of  the  fauna  and  birds  of  Africa  one  of  the  most 
interesting  in  the  world)  gave  me  every  facility  for 
working  in  the  gardens  which  he  controls.  Besides 
the  masses  of  bougainvillea,  I  found  the  bohenia  in  full 
bloom  ;  the  hibiscus  was  in  flower,  the  poinciana  regia, 
as  well  as  many  other  subtropical  shrubs. 

I  started  a  morning  as  well  as  an  afternoon  drawing 
of  the  bougainvillea,  and  much  as  I  was  taken  by  this 
display  of  colour  in  nature,  I  found  that  somehow  or 
another  I  could  not  get  it  to  look  pictorially  right  on 
my  paper.  The  purplish-crimson  fought  unpleasantly 
with  the  green,  and  with  the  blue  of  the  sky.  It  is  a 
pity  ;  for  the  otherwise  delightflil  days  I  spent  at  the 
Gizeh  gardens  have  this  black  mark  against  them. 

The  bougainvillea  had  hardly  shed  its  blossom  when 
the  jacaranda  began  to  show  what  it  is  capable  of,  both 
as  to  its  beauty  as  in  the  difficulties  it  sets  before  the 
painter  who  attempts  to  record  the  delicacy  of  its 
colouring.  I  thought  nothing  more  of  the  bougainvillea 
when  the  jacaranda  put  on  its  spring  garments.  Leafless 
trees  of  a  graceful  growth,  which  may  be  seen  in  almost 
every  garden,  but  which  we  simply  label  in  our  minds  as 
trees  without  paying  them  any  further  attention,  become 
each  one  an  object  of  admiration  when  April  glides 
into  May.  I  had  generally  been  in  Upper  Egypt 
during  that  season,  or  had  left  the  country  too  soon  to 
see  the  jacaranda  in  bloom.  The  cherry-blossom  had 
attracted  me  to  Japan  the  previous  year,  I  have  made 

172 


SPRING'S    AWAKENING 

studies  of  the  almond  tree  and  the  peach  during  one 
or  two  seasons  in  Italy,  and  I  never  fail  to  get  at  the 
apple-blossom  should  I  happen  to  be  in  England  in 
May.  Each  in  its  turn  has  filled  me  with  enthusiasm. 
But  there  is  none  to  compare  with  the  beauty  of  the 
jacaranda. 

Its  local  colour  is  a  pale  violet,  but  when  the 
declining  sun  plays  amongst  its  bloom-laden  twigs,  it 
tells  as  a  mass  of  warm  pink  against  the  turquoise  sky. 
The  fear  of  a  hamseen  increases  as  the  blossom  gets  to 
perfection,  for  two  or  three  days  of  the  hot  dry  wind 
may  rob  the  trees  of  most  of  their  beauty.  The  colour 
is  so  different  under  a  sand-laden  sky  that  it  is  hopeless 
to  continue  a  drawing  begun  when  the  wind  came  from 
a  better  quarter.  Should  the  hamseen  have  done  its 
worst  before  these  trees  break  into  blossom,  we  may 
enjoy  their  beauty  for  a  fortnight  or  more.  When 
once  the  green  buds  show  between  the  blossoms,  we 
know  that  in  a  day  or  two  all  will  be  over.  The 
rapidity  with  which  a  leafless  tree  changes  to  a  mass 
of  green  is  surprising  to  any  one  who  has  spent  his 
years  in  northern  climes. 

Whether  the  oleander  was  exceptionally  fine  that 
season  I  cannot  tell,  but  I  had  seen  nothing  like  it  any- 
where— and  an  oleander  in  flower  is  a  thing  no  one 
with  any  aesthetic  sense  would  pass  unnoticed.  The 
scorching  winds  may  have  shrivelled  up  some  of  its 
bloom,  but  the  profusion  of  buds  was  ever  ready  to 
fill  up  any  gaps  left  by  the  filling  petals. 

Where  water  is  available  anything  seems  to  grow  in 
this  rich  alluvial  soil.      Flowers  were  in  plenty  during  the 

173 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

whole  winter,  but  the  flower  gardens  in  Egypt  attracted 
me  less  than  do  those  nearer  home.  The  blackish 
mud  from  which  they  grow  makes  an  unpleasant 
setting.  The  large  flowering  shrubs  get  their  moisture 
deeper  in  the  soil,  and  little  or  no  irrigation  seems 
required.  Cairo  is  but  a  few  feet  above  the  level  of 
the  Nile,  and  the  roots  of  the  larger  trees  probably 
reach  down  to  where  a  continuous  supply  of  water  is 
ever  available.  I  can  only  account  in  this  way  for  the 
luxuriance  of  growth  often  seen  in  a  dry  and  sandy 
courtyard. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  when  the  rose  season  is  at  its 
best  ;  we  were  seldom  without  them.  The  bushes 
possibly  take  a  rest  during  the  hottest  months  of 
summer  ;  during  the  autumn,  the  winter,  and  the 
spring  they  are  hardly  ever  denuded  of  their  bloom 
before  they  show  signs  of  renewed  efforts  to  break  into 
flower. 

The  new  suburbs,  which  are  ever  stretching  out 
to  the  north  and  south  of  the  modern  Cairo,  have 
little  to  attract  one.  Architectural  studies  may  be 
made  there  to  learn  what  to  avoid.  I  avoided  them 
altogether  until  the  blossoming  trees,  the  flowering 
shrubs,  and  the  gorgeous  colour  of  some  of  the  creepers 
attracted  me  from  one  otherwise  villainous  house  to 
another.  There  are  scarcely  any  flowers  to  be  seen 
in  the  old  parts  of  the  city,  so  that  the  houses  and 
mosques  could  wait  ;  but  not  so  the  blossoming  trees 
in  the  gardens  of  the  modern  quarters. 

Count  Zogheb  kindly  showed  me  over  his  house, 
which  forms  a  striking  exception  to  the  many  tasteless 

174 


GAIRENE    HOUSE    OF   COUNT   ZOGHEB 

buildings  in  its  neighbourhood,  and  it  was  a  pleasure  to 
find  that  the  planning  and  decoration  of  the  best  mame- 
luke  palaces  can  be  adapted  to  modern  requirements 
if  the  possessor  has  the  means  and  the  good  taste  to 
appreciate  them.  Herz  Bey  designed  the  building, 
and  though  it  is  no  slavish  copy  of  any  existing  old 
Cairene  house,  it  has  the  spirit  and  the  good  taste  of 
the  best  Saracenic  work.  I  was  also  glad  to  see  that  it 
is  possible  to  reproduce  the  handsome  tiles,  which  I  had 
repeatedly  heard  to  be  a  lost  art.  Some  panels  which 
the  owner  pointed  out  to  me  were  made  up  partly  of 
old  and  partly  of  modern  tiles,  and  I  confess  I  found  it 
difficult  to  tell  which  were  which.  Connoisseurs  in  old 
faience  may  smile  at  this,  and  they  might  have  pointed 
out  some  differences  in  the  glaze  ;  but  in  the  decorative 
effect  on  the  walls  one  was  quite  as  useful  as  the  other. 
I  wish  they  had  been  made  in  Egypt,  for  any  signs  of  a 
revival  of  the  lost  handicraft  would  be  most  welcome. 
The  Count  informed  me  that  some  were  made  in 
Venice  from  patterns  he  sent  there,  and  others  were 
manufactured  in  Austria. 

Nassan,  he  of  the  lamp-shop,  must  have  acquired  a 
good  customer  in  my  new  acquaintance,  for  a  great 
number  of  his  lamps  were  seen  here,  and  they  were 
beautifully  adapted  to  the  electric  light.  A  fear  I  had 
before  entering  the  house  was  that  it  might  look 
theatrical  and  not  suitable  to  present-day  use  ;  but 
I  lost  that  completely  after  I  had  been  there  some 
while.  There  was  no  affectation  on  the  part  of  my 
host  and  his  family  to  live  as  mediaeval  Moslems,  any 
more    than    the    possessor    of  an    old     English    house 

175 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

attempts  to  live  as  did  his  predecessors.  Chairs, 
tables,  books  and  all  other  modern  requirements  were 
there,  and  they  looked  no  more  incongruous  than  did 
the  unveiled  faces  of  the  handsome  wife  and  daughters 
of  my  host.  It  was  a  bold  venture,  and  if  a  less  able 
architect  than  Herz  Bey  had  had  the  designing  of  this 
home,  it  might  have  been  a  deplorable  failure,  instead  of 
an  encouragement  to  other  wealthy  Cairenes  to  try  to 
do  likewise. 

The  first  attempt  at  a  revival  of  Saracenic  domestic 
architecture  was  the  French  Agency.  I  can  only  judge 
of  it  from  its  exterior,  which  is  a  dignified  and  handsome 
building  ;  competent  judges  have  assured  me  that  the 
interior  is  very  beautiful.  It  is  singular  that  this  noble 
attempt  to  build  according  to  the  traditions  of  Cairo's 
best  period  went  on  while  Ismael  Pasha  was  tearing 
down  fine  old  mameluke  palaces  and  destroying  one 
of  the  most  picturesque  parts  of  the  old  city,  in  order 
to  construct  the  hideous  '  Boulevard  Mohammed  Ali.' 
This  act  of  vandalism  went  on  under  French  influence 
while  a  French  architect  was  constructing  the  '  Maison 
de  France,'  as  the  agency  is  called,  and  endeavouring 
to  give  it  the  appearance  of  the  houses  the  Cairenes 
were  destroying.  Fine  old  tniishrbiyeh  work  was  to 
be  had  in  plenty,  and  the  furniture  of  a  fine  mosque, 
which  was  partly  demolished  in  order  to  preserve  the 
alignment  of  the  Boulevard,  were  available  to  the 
architect  of  the  agency.  It  contains,  therefore,  much 
genuine  old  work  which  was  not  procurable  when 
Count  Zogheb  recently  built  his  home.  It  is  as  well 
that  this  should  be  so.      Age  does  little  to  improve  the 

176 


THE  JACARANDA 


GAIRENE   HOUSE    OF    COUNT   ZOGHEB 

woodwork,  whose  chief  beauty  consists  in  the  design, 
and  of  this  plenty  of  examples  remain.  It  is  a  hopefiil 
sign  that  all  that  I  saw  in  the  Count's  beautiful  house 
can  still  be  achieved,  providing  an  able  architect  be 
selected. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

DER  EL-BAHRI,  AND  SOME  INCIDENTS  WHICH  TOOK 
PLACE  DURING  MY  STAY  THERE 

FROM  1905  and  onwards  I  spent  five  long  seasons  in 
Upper  Egypt.  I  was  engaged  during  a  part  of 
that  time  in  reproducing  a  series  of  eighteenth 
dynasty  bas-reHefs  for  four  different  museums.  By  the 
courtesy  of  the  Antiquities  Department  I  was  allowed 
the  use  of  the  hut  built  by  the  Egyptian  Exploration 
Fund,  when,  under  the  direction  of  Professor  Naville, 
the  excavations  of  the  Mentuhoteb  temple  at  Thebes 
were  begun.  I  joined  the  camp  during  the  last  season 
of  its  work  there.  I  spent  a  delightful  winter  in  the 
companionship  of  four  enthusiastic  excavators.  The 
exciting  finds  while  Professor  Currelly  was  in  charge 
of  the  camp,  as  well  as  the  epoch-making  discovery  of 
the  tomb  of  Queen  Tyi  in  the  Valley  of  the  Tombs  of 
the  Kings,  all  tend  to  make  the  winter  of  1905- 1906 
a  memorable  one  in  the  annals  of  Egyptian  research. 
It  was  an  exciting  time  ;  but  as  these  events,  as  well 
as  my  own  work  for  the  museums,  has  been  given  in 
detail  in  Below  the  Cataracts^  I  propose  now  to  recount 
some  of  the  incidents  which  occurred  since  the  Egyptian 
Exploration  Fund  broke  up  their  camp  to  carry  on  their 
work  at  Abydos. 

The  reproduction  of  the  bas-reliefs  in  the  Hatshepsu 

178 


DER    EL-BAHRI 

temple,  which  I  originally  undertook  rather  as  an  experi- 
ment, brought  me  numerous  commissions  from  various 
museums.  The  work  was  interesting  as  well  as  lucrative ; 
but  after  some  months  of  it  I  yearned  to  get  back  to  my 
water-colour  drawings.  I  therefore  engaged  an  artist 
in  Paris  to  come  out  the  following  season  to  assist  me. 
We  then  had  the  hut  to  ourselves,  and  we  turned  the 
antiquities  store-room  into  a  studio  for  such  work  as 
we  had  not  to  do  in  the  temple  itself. 

We  led  the  '  simple  life '  here  with  a  vengeance. 
We  slept  under  the  canopy  of  the  starlit  heavens  ;  we 
fed  on  what  our  Arab  cook  could  find  in  the  village 
between  us  and  the  cultivated  land,  supplemented  with 
preserves  I  had  sent  out  from  England  ;  we  rose  with  the 
sun  and  retired  not  very  long  after  it  had  set.  Hatshepsu's 
temple  rises  in  terraces  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  from 
the  hut,  and  the  foundations  of  the  newly  excavated 
shrine  of  Mentuhoteb  lie  beside  it,  the  former  more 
or  less  an  enlarged  copy  of  its  neighbour  of  twelve 
centuries  earlier  date.  An  amphitheatre  of  imposing 
limestone  cliffs  backs  the  two  ruins  and  divides  us  from 
the  Valley  of  the  Tombs  of  the  Kings. 

The  great  Theban  necropolis  spreads  over  the  desert 
between  us  and  the  cultivation,  and  stretches  some  two 
miles  both  to  the  north  and  to  the  south  of  our  hut, 
the  vast  temple  of  Medinet  Habu  being  at  the  southern 
extremity  and  the  road  to  the  Valley  of  the  Kings  at  its 
northern  end.  In  these  two  to  three  square  miles  of 
broken  ground,  raised  above  the  limits  of  the  Nile's  over- 
flow, can  we  read  most  of  what  is  known  of  the  history  of 
Egypt  from  the  Middle  Empire  up  to  the  Mohammedan 

179 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

invasion.  Little  is  known  from  the  decline  of  the 
twelfth  dynasty  until  the  rise  of  the  New  Empire  some 
five-and-thirty  centuries  past.  But  the  story  of  the  re- 
naissance during  the  eighteenth  dynasty,  the  conquests 
of  the  second  and  the  third  Rameses,  as  well  as  the 
gradual  decline  of  the  empire  until  the  foreign  domi- 
nation, can  be  read  here  by  the  Egyptologist  as  in  an 
open  book.  Of  the  rule  of  the  Tanites,  of  the  Libyans, 
and  of  the  Ethiopians,  we  find  fewer  indications.  Some 
remains  remind  us  of  the  second  renaissance  during  the 
late  Egyptian  period,  and  we  are  also  reminded  of  Cam- 
byses  and  the  Persian  domination,  when  we  behold  the 
overturned  colossal  image  of  Rameses.  A  beautiful 
little  temple  of  Nektanebos  carries  us  forward  to  when 
the  Egyptians  came  by  their  own  again. 

The  Ptolemaic  fagade  at  Medinet  Habu,  the  beauti- 
ful little  shrine  at  Der  el-Medineh,  and  the  inner 
sanctuary  of  Hatshepsu's  temple  remain  as  examples  of 
the  work  done  under  the  Ptolemies.  If  we  go  a  mile 
beyond  Medinet  Habu  we  find  a  little  temple  of  Isis 
erected  by  Hadrian  and  Antoninus  Pius,  and  bearing 
the  inscriptions  of  Vespasian,  Domitian,  and  Otho. 

The  early  Christians  have  left  their  mark  in 
Hatshepsu's  shrine  to  Ammon  Ra  ;  unfortunately  little 
of  their  constructive  work  is  seen,  but  a  great  many 
obliterations  of  beautiful  eighteenth  dynasty  bas-reliefs 
make  us  regret  their  pious  zeal.  Until  recently  a 
partly  ruined  Christian  church  stood  in  the  centre  of 
the  second  court  of  the  Rameses  iii.  temple  at  Medinet 
Habu.  Misplaced  zeal  on  the  part  of  Egyptologists 
caused   this  primitive  place  of  Christian  worship  to  be 

180 


DER    EL-BAHRI 

cleared  away  so  as  not  to  obstruct  the  view  of  the 
earHer  building.  A  broader  view  of  archaeology  might 
have  spared  such  an  interesting  structure. 

To  settle  down  to  a  stay  of  seven  consecutive 
months  in  an  arid  waste,  surrounded  by  tombs  and  the 
crumbling  remains  of  a  bygone  age,  might  strike  the 
man  in  the  street  as  holding  out  a  gloomy  prospect. 
The  idea  that  I  had  not  been  particularly  favoured 
never  entered  my  head  till,  after  four  or  five  months 
passed  here,  I  received  a  visit  from  a  relative.  This 
lady  had  picked  her  way  on  a  donkey,  through  a  mile 
or  more  of  pit  tombs,  rock  tombs  and  broken  mauso- 
leums, on  a  hot  and  dusty  day,  before  she  reached  my 
hut.  After  our  greetings  she  remarked,  '  You  must  be 
fed  up  with  this  place  by  now.'  She  asked  me  to  come 
and  stay,  as  her  guest,  in  the  huge  new  hotel  which  we 
could  see  from  here  outlined  against  the  eastern  horizon. 
That  I  had  become  an  object  of  pity  instead  of  one  to  be 
envied  was  a  new  and  strange  idea  to  me.  To  give  up 
my  free  life  in  this  fine  air,  surrounded  as  I  was  with 
an  infinity  of  things  which  filled  me  with  interest,  and 
my  only  regret  being  that  the  days  were  far  too  short — 
to  give  this  up  to  loaf  about  the  hotel  at  Luxor  amidst 
a  crowd  of  people  whose  one  object  is  to  kill  time — the 
very  thought  of  it  gave  me  a  shudder.  I  tried  to 
console  my  kindly  intentioned  relative  that  she  would 
think  better  of  my  locality  when  she  had  seen  the 
beautiful  things  Hatshepsu's  temple  had  in  store  for  her. 

The  beautiful  series  of  reliefs  illustrating  the  ex- 
pedition to  the  Land  of  Punt,  the  presentation  of 
Queen    Aahmes   to    Ammon    Ra  and   the  divine   birth 

i8i 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

of  Hatshepsu,  all  executed  during  the  best  period  of 
the  eighteenth  dynasty,  did  less  to  expel  the  gloomy 
thoughts  of  my  relation  than  did  the  cup  of  tea  which 
my  Arab  cook  had  prepared  for  her.  The  frank  admis- 
sion that  the  chipped  and  cracked  examples  of  an  archaic 
art  did  not  appeal  to  her  was  refreshing,  and  I  began 
already  to  have  my  suspicions  as  to  the  genuineness 
of  many  exclamations  of  admiration  I  had  heard. 

Early  Egyptian  art  must  ever  remain  as  caviare  to 
the  masses  until  they  learn  that  art  is  not  merely  a 
slavish  reproduction  of  some  natural  objects.  They 
would  do  well  to  credit  those  who  have  studied  it  and 
who  assure  them  that  it  is  in  truth  a  very  great  art,  and 
that  it  well  repays  any  intelligent  person  who  approaches 
it  with  proper  reverence.  The  absence  of  perspective 
and  of  all  foreshortening  in  these  low  reliefs  shocks  the 
tyro,  and  he  may  express  himself  that  the  hgures  must 
be  wrong  when  an  attitude  is  depicted  which  it  is  im- 
possible to  hold.  The  mind,  however,  soon  accepts  these 
conventions  and  is  free  to  admire  the  wonderful  drawing 
of  the  outline,  the  sense  of  proportion,  and  the  marvel- 
lously suggested  modelling  in  a  relief  that  seldom  sur- 
passes the  eighth  of  an  inch  in  thickness.  Apart  from  the 
purely  aesthetic  pleasure  the  eighteenth  dynasty  work  gives 
us,  it  is  a  delight  to  be  carried  back  to  a  remote  age  and 
to  see  depicted  not  only  the  gods  and  the  kings,  but  the 
everyday  life,  with  its  joys  and  its  sorrows,  of  a  people 
who  flourished  more  than  three  millenniums  ago. 

The  past  may  seem  too  remote  to  awaken  much 
sympathy  in  many  who  are  always  surrounded  by  the 
comforts  of  the  present  day.      But  if  we  enter  into  the 

182 


SOME    INCIDENTS 

life  of  the  fellaheen  who  dwell  in  the  villages  where 
desert  and  cultivation  meet,  we  find  much  in  common 
between  the  early  Egyptians  and  this  country-folk. 

Some  actually  live  in  the  tombs,  using  the  forecourts 
for  their  beasts.  Where  exceptionally  interesting  wall 
inscriptions  exist  in  the  ancient  sepulchres,  the  Antiquities 
Department  has  stepped  in  and  protected  them  from  the 
risk  of  being  damaged.  The  evicted  tenants  then  build 
their  homes  nearer  the  cultivation.  The  one  I  give  as 
an  illustration  to  this  chapter  is  a  fair  sample  of  a 
modern  Theban  homestead.  The  dress  of  the  people 
has  altered  slightly  from  that  of  their  remote  ancestors, 
and  the  camel  was  presumably  non-existent  in  pharaonic 
times  ;  but  little  else  has  been  changed.  The  rude 
bins  made  of  dried  mud  are  of  early  Egyptian  rather 
than  of  Saracenic  design.  The  stone  in  the  right- 
hand  corner  with  which  the  fellaha  grinds  the  corn, 
finds  its  prototype  on  the  walls  of  many  an  adjacent 
tomb. 

The  farming  operations  have  little  changed  during 
this  great  lapse  of  time.  The  scenes  depicted  on  the 
walls  of  the  tomb  of  Nakht  :  the  men  reaping  with 
sickles,  the  women  gleaning  ;  others  packing  the  ears 
of  corn  or  measuring  the  garnered  grain — all  this  can  be 
seen  now,  in  any  of  these  villages,  and  it  is  done  in  the 
same  simple  and  primitive  manner.  The  types  of  the 
labouring  people  are  less  changed  than  their  simple 
garments.  The  women  plucking  durra  or  winnowing 
the  corn  in  Nakht's  sepulchre  might  have  been  drawn 
from  any  of  the  women  we  now  see  carrying  their 
pitchers  of  water  from  the  wells.      All  are  now  followers 

183 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

of  the  Prophet  save  a  few  Coptic  Christians  ;  the  worship 
of  Isis  gave  way  to  that  of  the  risen  Christ,  and  the 
crescent  has  since  replaced  the  cross.  But  many  a 
superstition  has  survived  these  changes.  The  mental 
characteristics  of  the  Upper  Egyptian  differ  very  much 
from  those  of  the  true  bred  Arab  ;  it  is  therefore 
rational  to  believe  that  these  have  been  transmitted  as 
well  as  the  cast  of  the  features. 

Some  allowance  must  be  made  for  the  inhabitants 
of  Gurna,  the  long  straggling  village  at  the  base  of  the 
necropolis.  Year  after  year  tourists  pass  by  its  hovels, 
and  from  a  coin  thrown  now  and  again  to  the  children, 
a  breed  of  beggars  is  replacing  an  otherwise  hard- 
working people.  The  demand  for  '  antikas '  has  caused 
a  supply  of  false  ones,  or  tempted  the  men  to  steal  from 
the  temples  whenever  a  favourable  chance  presents 
itself.  Many  have  lost  the  habit  of  work  in  consequence 
of  these  evil  influences  ;  thus,  on  the  whole,  the  Gurna 
peasants  compare  badly  with  those  of  less  frequented 
villages. 

With  the  exception  of  a  few  friends  who  were  con- 
nected with  the  excavations,  or  an  occasional  visit  from 
acquaintances  who  were  spending  a  season  in  Upper 
Egypt,  I  saw  few  human  beings  beside  the  Gurna 
peasants.  I  endeavoured  to  see  the  best  side  of  their 
natures,  and  to  make  allowances  for  the  centuries  of 
bad  government  under  which  they  have  existed.  I 
found  them  not  quite  so  bad  as  they  are  painted.  Their 
ingratitude,  of  which  I  had  heard  a  good  deal,  can  be 
explained  in  two  ways  ;  firstly,  hospitality  is  a  duty  of 
the  Mohammedan  religion,  and  hospitality  of  a  kind  is 

184 


THE  BIRTH  COLONNADE  IN    I  HK  TEMPLE  OF  HATSHEPSU 


SOME    INCIDENTS 

expected  and  taken  for  granted.  We  are  seldom  grate- 
ful for  what  we  consider  our  due.  Secondly,  many 
favours  conferred  by  the  foreigner  are  little  more  than 
common  humanity  demands,  and  he  is  liable  to  place 
too  high  an  estimate  on  what  he  may  have  done.  Where 
too  much  gratitude  was  not  expected  for  some  service 
performed,  I  generally  found  that  the  fellah  could  be  as 
grateful  as  the  peasant  nearer  home. 

Their  greed  for  money  is  a  characteristic  which  the 
tourist  cannot  fail  to  perceive  ;  but  the  tourist  seldom 
meets  any  of  the  fellaheen  save  those  who  live  near  the 
frequented  '  sights.'  The  annual  influx  of  sightseers 
has  become  as  a  crop,  to  these  peasants,  from  which  a 
harvest  should  be  gathered.  In  their  eyes  the  Sauwdhtn 
are  all  millionaires,  and,  according  to  the  oriental  mind, 
the  rich  man  should  pay  out  of  the  abundance  of  his 
riches,  and  not  necessarily  in  proportion  to  the  services 
rendered.  Our  mediaeval  '  largess '  was  taken  in  that 
light  by  our  forebears,  and  corresponds  very  much  to  the 
fellaheen's  notion  of  baksheesh.  This  is  not  expected  of 
those  who  live  and  work  amongst  them,  for  '  How  can 
a  man  be  rich  if  he  works  daily  with  his  hands  ? ' 
Baksheesh  from  such  as  myself  would  be  expected  not 
as  largess,  but  more  as  a  gratuity  after  a  certain  period 
of  service. 

1  remember  a  man  asking  where  the  Beled  es- 
Sauwcihm  was,  that  is,  the  '  Land  of  the  Foreigners.' 
On  being  told  that  the  English,  the  French  and 
Germans,  who  were  all  Sauwdhi?i^  had  each  a  separate 
country,  my  questioner  retorted,  '  But  surely  you  are 
not    one  of  them  ? '      I    told    him    that    as    I  was   an 

2  A  185 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

Englishman,  I  was  of  course  one  of  them,  and  I,  in  my 
turn  asking  him  a  few  questions,  managed  to  arrive  at 
his  views  on  the  subject.  He  was  aware  that  there 
existed  beyond  the  seas  a  land  of  the  Ing/eesi^  also  one 
of  the  Fransowi^  and  one  of  the  Nemsawi  ;  but  besides 
these  there  was  a  land  of  the  Sauwahm^  a  rich  people 
who  apparently  did  no  work,  and  annually  migrated  to 
the  south  to  visit  the  temples  and  tombs  of  the  ancient 
Egyptians  for  some  obscure  purpose  which  he  had  not 
quite  fathomed. 

They  are  superstitious  to  a  greater  degree  than  the 
pure  Arab,  who,  to  my  thinking,  is  less  so  than  most  other 
illiterate  people,  and  it  would  be  an  interesting  study  to 
sift  the  superstitions  which  date  back  to  the  Pantheism 
of  the  early  Egyptians  from  those  which  have  been 
imported  since  the  Mohammedan  invasion. 

They  seem  to  credit  every  foreigner  who  lives 
amongst  them  with  a  certain  amount  of  medical  know- 
ledge, and  when  their  own  treatment  will  have  failed  in 
its  object,  any  European  living  amongst  them  may 
expect  a  visit  from  the  sufferer.  A  supply  of  Epsom 
salts  and  a  solution  of  boracic  acid,  left  in  my  hut  by 
the  last  tenants,  did  duty  for  most  internal  and  external 
complaints  which  were  brought  to  me  during  my  first 
season  ;  and  these  remedies,  largely  assisted  by  the 
antiseptic  air  of  the  desert,  soon  established  my  reputa- 
tion as  a  hakeetn.  The  remedies  being  gratis,  and  a 
bottle  thrown  in,  it  is  possible  that  the  bottle  may  have 
attracted  some  of  my  patients.  There  is  a  well-appointed 
hospital  at  Luxor  to  which  I  vainly  tried  to  persuade 
many  to   apply.      Wild    stories    of  imaginary    horrors 

i86 


SOME    INCIDENTS 

practised  there,  and  the  usual  fear  that  some  means  would 
be  used  to  extract  money  from  them,  prevents  many  an 
excellent  hospital  from  being  the  blessing  it  should  be. 

A  painfiil  case  that  was  brought  to  my  notice 
decided  me  to  augment  not  only  my  medical  stores,  but 
also  to  gain  some  elementary  knowledge  as  to  first-aid 
treatment.  In  early  November  scorpions  are  still  active, 
and  are  not  hibernating,  as  they  do  while  the  tourist's 
season  is  on,  and  only  those  who  live  here  in  the  hot 
season  have  any  idea  what  a  pest  scorpions  can  be. 
The  case  in  point  was  that  of  a  little  girl  who  had  been 
stung,  and  the  father  hurried  round  to  my  hut  to  ask 
me  for  a  remedy.  The  only  treatment  I  had  then 
heard  of  was  to  take  alcohol  in  sufficient  quantities  to 
counteract  the  poison  of  the  scorpion.  As  the  child 
was  only  eleven  years  old,  I  put  more  water  than 
whisky  in  the  bottle,  and  told  the  man  to  give  his  girl 
a  teaspoonful  about  every  half-hour,  and  to  be  carehil 
to  keep  the  wound  clean.  I  saw  the  man  the  next  day, 
and  he  told  me  that  the  child  was  well  again  ;  how  far 
he  had  applied  the  whisky  solution  I  could  not  tell.  A 
suspicion  crossed  my  mind  that  he  had  probably  drunk 
the  whisky,  and  possibly  rubbed  the  wound  with  the 
empty  bottle.  The  child,  however,  being  well,  I  thought 
no  more  about  it  till  I  again  met  the  man,  a  week  or 
so  later.  I  playfully  remarked  that  I  hoped  no  more 
whisky  might  be  required  for  scorpion  stings,  and 
received  the  startling  answer  that  the  child  was  dead. 
The  man  took  his  loss  in  the  resigned  fatalistic  manner 
of  most  Mohammedans.  'It  was  the  will  of  Allah,  and 
we  must  accept  that  as  all  for  the  best.' 

187 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

I  sent  a  letter  the  next  day  to  the  dispensary  which 
is  attached  to  the  American  mission,  and  begged  the 
man  in  charge  of  it  to  supply  me  with  any  known 
remedies  for  the  sting  of  the  scorpion,  and  also  to 
kindly  write  out  how  the  remedies  should  be  applied. 
My  servant  brought  back  two  preparations  of  ammonia, 
some  lint,  and  detailed  instructions  how  to  use  them. 
There  was  no  mention  of  alcohol,  so  I  trusted  that  my 
suspicions  as  to  who  had  swallowed  my  whisky  had  been 
well  founded. 

As  we  got  into  December,  we  heard  and  saw  little 
of  scorpions,  and,  during  the  season  of  hibernation,  I 
forgot  about  these  creatures  as  well  as  about  the  remedies, 
till  a  very  rude  reminder  of  their  existence  brought  one 
and  the  other  back  to  me. 

While  lifting  up  some  stones  in  the  Ramesseum  so 
as  to  arrange  a  level  place  to  stand  my  sketching-stool, 
I  put  my  hand  inadvertently  on  a  sleeping  scorpion. 
He  was  soon  awake,  and  the  sting  I  got  in  my  hand 
caused  the  most  acute  physical  pain  I  can  ever  remember. 
I  was  a  mile  away  from  my  hut  and  the  remedies  ;  but 
remembering  the  first  instructions,  I  endeavoured  to  tie 
my  handkerchief  tightly  round  my  wrist,  so  as  to  stop 
the  poison,  which  I  felt  shooting  up  my  arm.  I  could 
not  manage  this  with  one  hand,  and  had  to  call  in  the 
assistance  of  two  American  ladies  who  happened  to  be 
viewing  the  temple.  When  one  kindly  tied  the  handker- 
chief as  tight  as  I  could  stand,  the  shooting  pains  up 
my  arm  lessened,  and  the  poison  then  worked  its  way 
to  my  finger-tips.  My  good  Samaritan  tried  to  induce 
me   to   mount   her   ass  and   ride  into   Luxor  to   see  a 

i88 


SOME    INCIDENTS 

doctor.  This  and  the  crossing  of  the  Nile  would  have 
taken  me  over  an  hour,  and  the  pain  in  my  finger-tips 
became  too  acute  to  make  an  hour  of  it  even  think- 
able. Besides  which,  I  was  keen  on  trying  my  new 
remedies. 

The  treatment  which  my  missionary  friend  had 
written  out  worked  very  well  ;  the  application  of 
ammonia  to  the  wound,  and  the  drops  taken  internally, 
soon  had  some  effect,  and  Ebers's  Bride  of  the  Nile^ 
which  I  was  reading,  and  on  which  I  tried  hard  to 
concentrate  my  thoughts,  probably  did  some  good  also. 
A  native  acquaintance  called  to  suggest  a  cure.  I  was 
to  repeat  certain  words  accompanied  by  some  signs,  and 
I  know  not  what  else,  for  I  was  not  in  the  mood  to 
take  his  instructions  in.  Not  wishing,  however,  to  throw 
cold  water  on  his  good  intentions,  I  told  him  that, 
good  as  his  remedy  might  be,  I  was  afraid  that  it  might 
act  counter  to  the  one  I  was  trying.  The  cabalistic 
words  and  signs  might  not  agree  with  the  ammonia 
treatment  prescribed  by  one  who  had  no  belief  in  these 
words,  and  my  friend  admitted  that  he  had  never 
thought  of  that.  I  also  pretended  to  fall  asleep,  and 
succeeded  thereby  in  ridding  myself  of  my  well-inten- 
tioned visitor. 

A  peculiar  stiffness  hung  about  my  finger-joints  for 
nearly  a  week  and  then  left  me ;  it  was  my  left  hand,  so 
it  did  not  interfere  with  my  work.  One  detail  I  had 
omitted  may  be  well  to  mention,  in  case  a  reader  be 
similarly  circumstanced,  and  that  is,  when  using  some 
sharp  instrument  to  open  the  puncture  so  as  to  squeeze 
out  as   much    poison   as   possible,  be   sure   to   disinfect 

189 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

this  instrument  properly.  I  imagined  a  good  wipe  of 
the  hypodermic  syringe  I  used  for  the  purpose  would 
be  a  sufficient  precaution  ;  but  a  sore  place  which 
took  some  time  to  heal  has  taught  me  in  future  either 
to  dip  the  instrument  into  carbolic  acid,  or,  failing  that, 
to  heat  it  in  the  flame  of  a  candle  before  trying  any 
surgical  operations  with  it. 

No  patients  from  scorpion  stings  applied  to  me 
again,  for  the  death  of  the  poor  little  girl  may  have  been 
put  to  my  charge.  As  an  eye  doctor  I  was  in  great 
request.  Dirt  being  the  chief  cause  of  the  complaints, 
a  wash  with  the  boracic  solution  did  no  harm,  and 
generally  did  some  good.  Some  brought  blind  people 
to  my  hut — rather  a  lot  to  expect  from  a  little  boracic 
acid  !  Some  cases  were  probably  only  cataract,  and 
quite  curable  ;  but  say  what  I  would,  I  could  not 
persuade  these  people  to  go  to  the  Luxor  hospital. 

Since  then  I  hear  that  a  member  of  the  Khedivial 
family  has  devoted  a  large  sum  of  money  to  send 
properly  equipped  medical  men  to  the  villages  to  see 
how  far  they  can  cope  with  the  various  eye  maladies. 
A  wiser  and  better  charity  it  is  hard  to  conceive.  Had 
my  patients  dwelt  in  the  towns  or  on  the  cultivated 
land,  my  cures  might  have  been  few  and  far  between. 
The  pure  desert  air  had  much  to  do  with  my  healings. 

I  mentioned  the  case  of  the  little  girl  who  had  died 
to  a  medical  friend  who  happened  to  be  spending  the 
season  at  Luxor.  In  his  opinion  the  poison  from  the 
scorpion  was  not  the  cause  of  the  death  ;  but  when 
picking  at  the  little  wound  some  poisonous  matter  must 
have  got  in  and  caused  blood-poisoning. 

190 


SOME    INCIDENTS 

I  went  out  the  next  season  more  fully  provided  with 
medical  stores,  and  our  good  doctor  in  Haslemere  had 
given  me  some  hints  as  to  bandaging  a  wound  and 
applying  iirst-aid  treatment.  I  had  not  long  to  wait 
before  putting  my  freshly  acquired  knowledge  to  a  test. 
One  of  the  guards  at  the  Hatshepsu  temple  trod  with 
his  naked  foot  on  a  jagged  bottle  end  which  some  care- 
less picnickers  had  left  there.  It  was  a  ghastly  wound, 
and  though  I  told  the  man  I  would  pay  for  a  donkey 
to  take  him  to  Luxor,  and  would  see  that  he  lost  no 
wages  while  he  might  be  laid  up,  he  would  not  go, 
and  preferred  taking  the  risk  of  losing  his  foot.  As 
all  persuasion  failed,  I  set  to  work  to  do  my  best.  I 
washed  his  foot  and  bandaged  it  with  the  antiseptic 
material  I  had,  and  sent  him  home  with  a  broomstick 
for  a  crutch.  He  and  the  broomstick  appeared  early 
next  morning  to  have  the  wound  dressed,  and  his  visits 
were  repeated  twice  daily  for  the  best  part  of  a  week. 
The  rapidity  with  which  that  foot  healed  up  made  me 
doubt  as  to  whether  I  had  not  missed  my  vocation.  No 
London  surgeon  could  have  effected  a  cure  as  rapidly 
with  all  his  experience  and  his  up-to-date  appliances. 
But  lest  I  should  become  too  conceited,  I  reflected 
that  the  London  surgeon  had  neither  the  desert  air  to 
operate  in,  nor  had  he  as  abstemious  patients  as  mine 
was.  No  strong  drinks  had  ever  heated  his  blood,  and 
his  simple  fare  was  sufficient  for  the  easy  work  he  had 
to  do,  but  not  enough  to  produce  the  acids  of  the  often 
overfed  Britisher. 

Now  this  man  was  grateful  for  the  trouble   I   had 
taken,  and  I'll    be   bound  to  say,  more  so   than   many 

191 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

London  hospital  patients  who  take  all  that  is  gratuitously 
done  for  them  as  a  matter  of  course. 

He  tried  to  show  his  gratitude  one  day  in  a  manner 
I  had  to  decline.  I  found  him  shaving  the  head  of  his 
fellow-guard  with  pieces  of  broken  glass.  I  watched 
him  for  some  time  performing  this  dry  shave :  he  would 
break  a  piece  off  a  bottle  and  then  jag  the  sharp  edge 
over  his  mate's  skull.  When  the  edge  was  blunted,  he 
would  break  off  another  piece  of  glass  and  continue  the 
operation,  till  finally  the  head  appeared  as  free  of  hair  as 
a  billiard  ball.  It  took  the  best  part  of  an  afternoon  to 
complete  the  job  to  his  satisfaction.  It  was  past  the 
season  when  visitors  to  the  temple  might  be  expected, 
and  time  was  therefore  of  no  object.  Seeing  that  my 
hair  wanted  cutting  badly,  my  late  patient  seriously 
offered  to  shave  my  head  in  like  manner. 

I  dislike  long  hair,  especially  in  hot  weather,  but  I 
thought  I  might  dislike  the  broken  glass  still  more. 
Neither  I  nor  my  assistant  from  Paris  wished  to  lose  a 
whole  day  by  going  to  Luxor  to  visit  the  hairdresser, 
and  the  latter  decided  that  he  would  let  our  cook 
try  his  hand  on  his  head.  Our  cook  appeared  to  be  as 
expert  a  barber  as  the  temple  guard,  and  time  being 
rather  more  valuable  to  him,  he  cleared  the  hair  off 
my  companion's  head  very  quickly. 

Even  this  did  not  encourage  me  to  submit  to  the 
operation,  and  I  reflected  that  as  my  time  was  more 
valuable  than  that  of  a  native  Luxor  barber,  I  would  get 
a  barber  from  thence  to  come  to  me.  I  also  prefer 
these  artists  in  hair  to  use  my  own  brushes  to  any 
they  may  themselves  possess.      The  brushes  were,  how- 

192 


THE  HAIRDRESSER 


SOME    INCIDENTS 

ever,  of  little  use,  for  there  was  nothing  to  brush  for  a 
fortnight  after  the  Luxor  hairdresser's  visit. 

I  have  no  picture  of  the  broken  bottle  school  of 
barber  ;  but  I  painted  one  of  the  craft,  at  a  recent  date, 
plying  his  trade  in  a  street  in  Cairo.  He  had  a  pair  of 
scissors  to  take  off  the  main  crop,  and  a  dry  shave 
(where  no  blood  was  spilt)  followed  with  a  razor.  He 
got  through  his  job  very  much  quicker  than  the 
amateurs  at  Der  el-Bahri,  but  he  did  not  do  it  as 
cleanly.  While  I  painted  my  street  corner,  I  noticed 
several  heads  the  worse  for  the  razor,  and  though  some 
talk  as  to  the  charge  for  the  operation  usually  preceded 
it,  there  were  seldom  any  complaints  about  the  cuts  in 
the  scalps. 


2  B 


CHAPTER    XVII 

DER  EL-BAHR\— {continued) 

FROM  the  middle  of  January  till  the  beginning  of 
March  not  a  day  went  by  but  some  parties 
of  visitors  passed  through  Der  el-Bahri  to  see 
Hatshepsu's  temple.  They  usually  went  to  the  Valley 
of  the  Tombs  of  the  Kings  hrst,  and  then  crossing 
over  the  mountain  which  separated  us  from  that  valley, 
we  would  see  them  defiling  down  the  steep  incline 
which  leads  to  Cook's  rest-house.  After  lunch  the 
guide  would  rush  them  through  Hatshepsu's  shrine,  and 
then  start  them  off  to  see  the  tombs  of  Sheykh  Abd-el- 
Gurna ;  the  Ramesseum  would  then  be  visited,  and  with 
hardly  a  pause  for  breath  every  one  would  remount 
their  donkeys  or  get  into  their  litters  to  be  rushed  off 
to  Medinet  Habu.  The  Valley  of  the  Tombs  of  the 
Queens  might  then  be  visited,  and  a  long  ride,  with  a 
short  halt  at  the  Colossi  of  Memnon,  would  take  them 
to  the  Nile,  to  be  crossed  after  sunset,  before  the  Luxor 
hotels  could  be  reached. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  most  of  these  good  people 
were  thankful  when  so  fatiguing  a  day  was  well  over, 
and  vowed  that  no  power  on  earth  would  ever  induce 
them  to  go  through  it  again.  A  week  would  barely 
suffice   to   get  more   than  a   cursory  glance  of  all  the 

194 


DER    EL-BAHRI 

sights  which  are  crowded  into  this  one  long  day.  The 
following  day  is  usually  devoted  to  '  doing '  the  Luxor 
temple,  and  being  rushed  through  the  ruins  of  Karnak. 
These  people  who  do  their  sights  at  such  a  giddy  speed 
usually  take  part  in  a  tour  up  the  Nile  organised  by 
some  travelling  agency.  A  few  well-advised  ones 
remain  at  Luxor  till  the  steam  dahabieh^  which  has  taken 
them  so  far,  picks  them  up  on  its  return  trip  from 
Assuan.  This  gives  them  time  to  see  at  their  ease  that 
which  the  ill-advised  ones  had  merely  been  rushed 
through. 

It  was  amusing,  after  some  months  of  solitude,  to 
see  my  fellow-creatures  again,  but  before  the  tourist 
season  was  over  I  longed  to  get  back  to  the  usual 
quietude  of  our  valley.  The  trippers  would  arrive  in 
batches  of  from  one  to  two  hundred,  and  add  to  this  an 
equal  number  of  donkeys  and  their  drivers — Der  el- 
Bahri  on  those  occasions  became  a  veritable  pande- 
monium. Fortunately  they  generally  swept  down  on 
us  at  about  the  same  hour  of  the  day — in  time  to 
lunch  at  the  rest-house  opposite  my  hut  ;  by  three 
o'clock  they  were  driven  off,  by  the  guide  in  charge  of 
the  party,  to  see  the  Ramesseum.  I  had  to  rearrange 
my  day  and  feed  when  they  fed,  and  take  a  '  siesta ' 
until  the  temple  was  empty  once  more.  Until  the 
tripper  season  we  were  almost  flyless,  being  sufficiently 
far  in  the  desert  to  be  away  from  that  pest.  The 
donkeys  and  the  debris  of  the  picnickers  brought  the 
usual  swarms  of  flies  with  them,  and  work  in  any  of  the 
temples  was  as  bad  in  that  respect  as  in  the  bazaars  at 
Cairo. 

195 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

The  smaller  parties  who  dropped  on  us  unawares  were 
most  to  be  feared.  I  might  be  making  some  studies  in 
one  of  the  tombs,  which  are  airless  enough  at  the  best 
of  times,  and  be  suddenly  aware  that  a  party  was 
approaching  by  hearing,  'Dis  way,  ladies  and  shentle- 
mens,  to  de  Tomb  of  Rekmarc.'  There  would  be  no 
help  for  it  but  to  pack  up  my  traps  and  be  off.  If  I 
returned  after  the  crowd  had  been  rushed  off  somewhere 
else,  the  air  would  be  unbreathable,  both  from  the  num- 
bers who  had  been  there,  and  from  the  extinguished 
tapers  or  magnesium  wire. 

By  the  end  of  March  I,  and  possibly  some  artist 
friend,  would  again  reign  supreme  at  Der  el-Bahri.  It 
is  a  hot  valley,  for  it  is  shut  off  from  the  northerly 
breezes,  and  the  cliffs  throw  back  the  rays  of  the  sun. 
By  rearranging  our  days  we  managed  to  avoid  the  worst 
of  the  heat.  We  breakfasted  at  daybreak,  and  we  took 
our  midday  meal  about  eleven,  and  from  twelve  till 
four  we  would  sleep  in  some  recess  where  the  sun's  rays 
had  never  penetrated.  After  that,  and  a  cold  bath  and 
some  tea,  we  could  get  to  work  till  sundown.  The 
hut  became  unbearable  in  April,  for  it  had  no  double 
roof.  The  coolest  spot  I  could  find  for  the  midday 
rest  was  in  the  Ptolemaic  sanctuary  in  Hatshepsu's 
temple.  This  is  cut  deep  into  the  overhanging  cliffs, 
and  in  the  hot  season  would  be  some  twenty  degrees 
cooler  than  my  hut.  I  put  an  Arab  bed  in  here,  and  by 
lying  with  my  head  to  the  entrance,  there  was  just  light 
enough  to  be  able  to  read  myself  to  sleep. 

There  was  no  fear  of  trippers  now,  and  the  few 
visitors  who  remained  on  in  Luxor  would  only  arrive 

196 


DER    EL-BAHRI 

before  or  after  the  heat  of  the  day.  On  first  entering 
my  temporary  boudoir  nothing  would  be  visible  on  the 
dark  walls  ;  but  on  getting  accustomed  to  the  dim 
light,  rows  of  gods  and  goddesses  would  appear.  The 
hawk-headed  Homs,  jackal-faced  Anubis,  and  the 
unspeakable  Min  of  Koptos  were  all  here  ;  also  the 
rounded  forms  of  Euergetes's  Queen,  and  Maat,  the 
goddess  of  truth.  The  tiger-headed  Sekhmet,  Bellona's 
prototype,  and  Sohk  with  his  crocodile  snout  made  a 
foil  to  the  rounded  features  of  Hathor  and  Isis. 

A  squeaky  sound  somewhere  above  would  make  me 
aware  that  I  was  not  the  only  living  tenant  of  this 
sanctuary.  Bats  have  long  since  discovered  that  it  is 
fairly  cool  here  in  summer,  and  not  too  cold  in  winter. 
A  noise  like  gentle  taps  from  a  hammer  would  draw 
my  eyes  to  a  wide  crack  in  the  wall,  and  around  two 
shiny  little  beads  I  would  make  out  the  form  of  a  large 
lizard.  The  little  beads  would  stare  at  me  for  some 
time,  and  if  I  just  moved  my  head  they  would  disappear 
into  the  depths  of  the  wall.  The  bats  like  myself  only 
used  this  place  as  a  shelter  from  the  heat,  and  would 
venture  out  towards  night  to  find  a  living  ;  but  what 
could  this  lizard  (a  gecko,  I  believe,  it  is  called)  find 
here  to  subsist  on  ?  Flies  kept  away  from  this  dark 
sanctuary,  and  except  the  water  I  had  in  my  water- 
bottle  no  moisture  finds  its  way  here. 

The  guards  occasionally  shot  a  snake,  but  all  I  have 
seen  in  this  temple  appeared  to  be  harmless  ones  ;  any- 
how, none  ever  shared  my  resting-place  with  me.  It 
was  different  in  the  enclosure  of  the  Ramesseum,  which 
is  nearer  the  moisture  of  the  cultivated   land.      I  was 

197 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

returning  from  my  work  there  one  evening,  and  passed 
close  to  a  large  cobra.  It  was  curled  round  a  stone 
which  was  partly  hid  in  the  scrub  growing  near  the 
pylon.  I  had  no  stick  with  me,  or  I  might  have  been 
able  to  kill  it.  It  was  the  first  I  had  ever  seen,  except  in 
captivity,  and  I  was  very  interested  in  comparing  it  with 
its  numerous  presentments  in  every  temple  in  Egypt. 
To  kill  it,  with  as  little  risk  as  possible  of  its  killing 
me,  became  my  chief  wish  when  I  had  watched  it  for 
some  time,  and  reflected  what  a  danger  this  beautiful 
creature  was  to  the  numbers  of  people  who  roam  about 
the  temple.  When  I  picked  up  a  good-sized  stone,  it 
shifted  its  place  and  disappeared  in  the  scrub. 

I  came  to  the  spot  on  the  following  evening  with 
Mr.  Howard  Carter  and  a  shot-gun ;  we  also  brought 
some  milk  in  a  pan,  and  placed  it  near  where  I  had  seen 
the  cobra.  We  waited  till  dark  in  the  hopes  of  our  bait 
attracting  it,  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  we  saw  it  no  more. 

Professor  Flinders  Petrie  told  me  that  he  had  killed 
several  with  his  walking-stick.  They  are  easily  de- 
stroyed ;  but  if  one  merely  wounds  the  creature  with 
a  blow,  it  may  strike  its  fangs  into  one  before  a  second 
blow  can  be  dealt.  We  told  the  guardians  of  the 
temple,  and  they  promised  to  try  to  shoot  it,  I  never 
heard  of  their  having  done  so,  and  I  have  a  suspicion 
that  the  prospect  of  a  gratuity  from  a  snake-charmer 
may  have  prevented  them.  Whether  this  cobra  has 
since  hearkened  to  the  voice  of  the  charmers,  charming 
never  so  wisely,  and  is  now  occasionally  pulled  out  of 
a  sack  to  perform  on  the  pavement  in  front  of  Shep- 
heard's  hotel,  I  cannot  say.      I  have  never  seen  as  large 

198 


DER    EL-BAHRI 

a  specimen  in  Cairo,  and  I  expect  they  are  taken  when 
they  are  young. 

As  this  is  an  art  practised  now  as  in  pharaonic  times, 
it  may  be  of  interest  to  hear  what  Canon  Tristram  says 
about  it  in  T/ie  Natural  Histo?y  of  the  Bible-.  'The  art  of 
serpent  charming,  referred  to  in  Ps.  Iviii.  4.  and  Jas.  iii.  7, 
is  of  immense  antiquity,  and  is  practised  not  only  in  Africa 
but  in  India.  In  the  latter  country  it  is  exercised  on 
another  species  of  cobra  [jiaja  triptidiaiis)  very  like  the 
haje.  The  resources  of  the  charmers  appear  to  be  very 
simple — the  shrill  notes  of  a  flute,  which  are  the  only 
kind  of  tones  which  the  serpent,  with  its  very  imperfect 
sense  of  sound,  is  capable  of  distinctly  following  :  and, 
above  all,  coolness  and  courage,  combined  with  gentle- 
ness in  handling  the  animal,  so  as  not  to  irritate  it. 
The  charmers  are  not  impostors  ;  for  though  they  may 
sometimes  remove  the  fangs,  it  is  a  well-attested  fact 
that  they  generally  allow  them  to  remain,  and  they  will 
operate  on  the  animals  when  just  caught  as  willingly  as 
on  individuals  which  have  long  been  in  their  possession ; 
but  they  are  very  reluctant  to  make  experiments  on  any 
other  species  than  the  cobra.  When  a  cobra  has  been 
discovered  in  a  hole,  the  charmer  plays  at  the  mouth 
until  the  serpent,  attracted  by  the  sound,  comes  out, 
when  it  is  suddenly  seized  by  the  tail,  and  held  at  arm's 
length.  Thus  suspended,  it  is  unable  to  turn  itself  so 
as  to  bite,  and,  when  it  has  become  exhausted  by  its  own 
efforts,  it  is  put  into  a  basket,  the  lid  ot  which  is  raised 
while  the  music  is  playing,  but,  at  each  attempt  of  the 
serpent  to  dart  out,  the  lid  is  shut  down  upon  it,  until 
it  learns  to  stand  quietly  on  its  tail,  swaying  to  and   tro 

199 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

to  the  music,  and  ceases  to  attempt  to  escape.  If  it 
shows  more  restlessness  than  ordinary,  the  fangs  are 
extracted  as  a  precaution.  Instances  are  not  uncommon 
in  which,  with  all  their  care,  the  jugglers'  lives  are 
sacrificed  in  the  exhibition.' 

We  were  surprised  one  evening  by  a  much  more  alarm- 
ing creature  than  a  cobra,  and  that  was  a  raving  madman. 
My  friend  Erskine  Nicol  was  staying  with  me,  and  we  had 
asked  Howard  Carter  to  dine  with  us.  When  the  latter 
arrived  within  sight  of  our  hut,  he  was  accompanied  by 
a  native  who  farmed  a  large  part  of  the  land  between  the 
fringe  of  the  desert  and  the  Nile.  The  man  appeared 
very  excited  about  something,  and  Carter  was  doing  his 
best  to  pacify  him.  As  they  got  nearer,  we  heard  him 
accusing  some  one  who  had  cut  down  a  tree  belonging 
to  him,  and  he  kept  pointing  to  our  hut,  and  saying 
that  the  culprit  lived  there.  Nicol  then  approached 
the  man,  and  asked  what  the  excitement  was  about,  and 
after  some  conversation  he  called  out  to  me  not  to  let 
the  man  in  as  he  was  out  of  his  mind.  It  was  dusk  at 
the  time,  and  my  cook  had  lighted  the  lamp  and  set 
the  table ;  we  had  a  lot  of  inflammable  material  about, 
as  I  and  my  assistant  were  packing  a  large  number  of 
casts  to  send  off  to  America.  A  madman  amongst  our 
casts  was  about  the  last  thing  we  wanted,  besides  the 
danger  of  his  upsetting  the  petroleum  lamp. 

The  man  of  a  sudden  dodged  away  from  my  two 
friends  and  made  a  dash  for  the  hut.  I  was  just  in 
time  to  close  the  door,  and  my  assistant  and  I  had  to 
lean  against  it  to  prevent  the  madman  from  bursting  it 
in.      It   was  a  frail   double   door  and   could  not   long 

200 


DER    EL-BAHRI 

resist  the  onslaughts  of  our  unwelcome  visitor.  I  man- 
aged to  reach  a  crowbar,  and,  by  sticking  one  end  in  the 
floor  and  jamming  the  other  under  one  of  the  transoms, 
it  made  a  powerful  buttress.  Finding  that  that  half  of 
the  door  resisted  his  efforts  too  stubbornly,  the  man  threw 
himself  on  his  back  and  kicked  his  foot  through  a  panel 
and  forced  his  leg  well  inside.  '  Hold  on  a  bit  longer,' 
called  out  my  friends  outside,  '  we  have  sent  for  the 
temple  guards  and  some  rope.'  I  had  to  dislodge  that 
leg  or  we  should  have  had  the  whole  man  in  through 
the  broken  panel.  A  severe  bastinado  on  the  sole  of 
the  foot  finally  made  the  man  withdraw  it.  He  then 
butted  the  door  with  his  head  and,  making  several  rushes, 
threw  the  weight  of  his  body  against  it.  Another  panel 
had  just  given  in  when  the  guards  arrived. 

My  two  friends  then  closed  with  the  man  and  called 
on  us  to  come  out,  and  we  also  threw  ourselves  on 
to  the  poor  fellow.  The  guards  handed  us  a  bit  of 
rope,  but  would  not  touch  the  man,  not  through 
physical  fear  so  much  as  apprehension  of  making  an 
enemy  of  one  who  from  his  wealth  was  a  power  in  the 
village.  With  his  turban  we  pinioned  his  arms,  and  we 
tied  his  ankles  together  with  the  rope,  and  then  sat  on 
his  body  till  his  relations  had  been  sent  for.  We  did 
our  best  not  to  hurt  the  unfortunate  man  ;  but  as  he 
was  powerfully  built,  it  was  all  we  could  do  to  master 
him. 

When  his  relations  arrived  he  was  sufficiently  ex- 
hausted to  allow  of  his  being  lifted  on  to  a  donkey  and 
taken  away  into  the  darkness. 

That  same  evening  we  had  several  of  his   relatives 

2  C  20I 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

round,  as  well  as  the  Ojndeh  of  the  village,  and  they  all 
implored  us  not  to  let  the  authorities  in  Luxor  know 
about  it.  They  would  keep  him  locked  up  till  he  was 
safe  to  be  at  large  ;  whereas,  if  he  were  taken  to  the 
Mamtir^  he  would  be  sent  to  the  madhouse  at  Keneh, 
and  there,  according  to  these  villagers,  he  would  be 
treated  with  the  utmost  cruelty.  Now  the  right  person 
to  report  him  was  the  Omdeh  of  the  village,  and  we 
reminded  him  of  this,  and  told  him  that  if  any  one  was 
harmed  by  this  madman  we  should  report  the  Omdeh 
for  having  neglected  his  duty.  The  latter  promised  to 
take  all  responsibility,  and  said  that  we  could  rest  assured 
that  the  man  would  never  come  near  my  hut  again. 

For  a  couple  of  days  we  had  peace,  for  the  poor 
madman  had  probably  not  recovered  from  his  exhaustion. 
After  that  time  we  saw  him  rushing  about  the  neighbour- 
hood with  half  the  village-folk  after  him.  We  called 
on  the  Omdeh  to  tell  him  that  he  must  inform  the 
authorities  at  Luxor,  or  we  should  do  it  ourselves,  and 
he  promised  that  he  would  send  a  messenger  that  very 
day.  I  did  not  expect  him  to  keep  his  promise,  and 
decided  to  write  to  the  Mamur  the  next  day  to  report 
on  the  madman  as  well  as  on  the  Omdeh  for  neglect  of 
duty.  This  time,  however,  the  latter  did  not  lie,  and 
we  heard  that  some  mounted  police  and  a  litter  had 
arrived  and  had  taken  the  man  off. 

An  important  official  and  his  secretary  rode  over  to 
my  hut  on  the  following  day  and  gave  us  a  good 
example  of  Egyptian  red-tapism  :  age,  place  of  birth, 
nationality,  profession,  etc.,  of  all  the  witnesses  had  to 
be   taken   down   by    the   secretary  ;  each   one  in   turn 

202 


DER    EL-BAHRI 

down  to  the  cook  and  our  messenger  had  to  give  their 
testimony.  '  Did  the  man  call  you  names,  and  if  so 
how  many  ? '  was  one  of  the  questions  put  to  me ;  as  if 
it  mattered  what  a  madman  said,  for  the  poor  man  had 
been  pronounced  insane  by  the  doctor  that  very  morning. 
It  is  also  difficult  to  see  how  our  ages  and  places  of 
birth  bore  on  the  subject,  unless  one  had  the  mind  of 
an  Egyptian  and  that  of  an  official  as  well. 

We  heard  that  the  patient  had  gone  out  of  his  mind 
once  before  some  years  previously,  and  that  he  had  now 
been  sent  to  the  lunatic  asylum  at  Keneh.  Madness 
must  either  be  quickly  cured  there  or  else  the  rumours 
— that  baksheesh  (if  in  sufficient  quantity)  can  get  a 
patient  out— must  be  true,  for  in  less  than  three  weeks 
the  man  was  in  our  neighbourhood  again.  He  was, 
however,  carefully  watched  by  his  relatives,  and  we  had 
no  further  visits  from  him. 

To  give  some  idea  of  the  dread   the  fellaheen  have 

of  hospitals  (unless  they  go  as  out-patients),  as  well  as 

of  lunatic   asylums,   I    will    repeat   what   one   of  these 

peasants  maintained  takes  place  in  the  latter.    He  declared 

that  those  of  unsound  mind  were  hung  by  their  heels 

from  the  ceiling,  over  a  charcoal  brazier,  and  then  holes 

were  bored  in  their  heads  to  let  out  a  valuable  juice  for 

which  the  doctors  got  a  large  price.      *  A  piastre  a  drop,' 

said  one  ;    '  No,  three  piastres  a  drop,'  declared  another. 

It    would    be    curious    to    trace    the    origin  of  such  an 

absurd    statement.       In    some    of    the    out-of-the-way 

places,  I  am,  however,  sorry  to  hear  that  some  nati\'e 

doctors  are   not  above  extracting   baksheesh  from   their 

patients. 

203 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

I  heard  this  from  an  Englishman  and  his  wife,  whose 
words  I  cannot  doubt.  A  man  whom  they  employed 
as  gardener  in  Upper  Egypt,  where  they  were  living, 
had  to  go  to  a  hospital  owing  to  some  accident  to  his 
leg.  The  doctor  who  attended  him  said  he  could  cure 
the  leg,  but  might  possibly  have  to  amputate  it.  He 
then  asked  the  patient  what  he  earned  and  what  his 
relatives  were  worth,  and  on  being  told,  suggested  that 
a  certain  sum  would  be  necessary  to  save  the  leg.  The 
poor  gardener  could  not  pay  this,  and,  after  the  usual 
bargaining,  the  sum  agreed  on  was  obtained  from  the 
patient's  people,  and  the  man  soon  left  the  hospital  with 
both  his  legs.  Of  course,  had  the  doctor's  villainous 
behaviour  been  reported  to  high  quarters  he  would 
have  been  summarily  dealt  with.  Let  us  hope  that  he 
has  been  found  out  since. 

Any  one  seeing  the  poor  hovels  many  of  the  fellaheen 
dwell  in  would  be  surprised  at  the  attachment  they  have 
for  their  homes.  During  my  second  winter  at  Thebes 
we  had  a  poor  Nile,  and  a  large  portion  of  the  land 
near  us  had  not  had  its  usual  share  of  inundation  ;  be- 
sides this,  the  Egyptian  Exploration  Fund  having  started 
their  work  elsewhere,  the  three  hundred  men  and  boys 
it  had  been  employing  for  some  years  past  had  not  this 
work  to  do.  It  was  therefore  a  singularly  bad  year  for 
the  people  of  Gurna.  Work  at  the  Assuan  dam  was 
being  paid  at  three  times  the  rate  these  men  got  while 
the  excavations  were  on,  and  now  a  great  many  were 
stranded  with  no  means  of  a  livelihood.  It  was  useless  to 
try  and  persuade  any  to  apply  at  Assuan  for  work,  the 
idea  of  going  more  than  a  hundred  miles  to  better  their 

204 


DER    EL-BAHRI 

circumstances  was  abhorrent  to  them.  It  was  pitiable  to 
see  the  number  of  men  who  appHcd  for  the  Httle  work 
I  could  give  them  in  connection  with  the  reproduction 
of  the  bas-reliefs. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  season  the  view  of  the 
Ramesseum  was  being  spoilt  by  a  great  bank  of  earth 
that  was  being  raised  round  it  as  an  encircling  wall.  I 
was  sorry  to  see  this,  as  it  ruined  the  effect  of  the  temple 
from  a  distance  ;  but  I  had  some  consolation  in  the  fact 
that  it  gave  employment  to  a  number  of  the  villagers. 
Let  us  hope  that  a  similar  amount  of  work  in  pulling  it 
down  again  may  be  reserved  for  the  next  bad  Nile. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

THE   CROSS   DESERT   JOURNEY   TO    KOSSEIR 

I  PROPOSE  now  to  break  the  sequence  of  events 
during  my  second  season  at  Thebes,  and  attempt 
to  describe  a  desert  journey  I  took  early  in 
November.  During  the  months  I  spent  at  Der  el-Bahri, 
when  I  joined  the  camp  of  the  Egyptian  Exploration 
Fund,  I  was  awakened  every  morning  by  the  first  light 
in  the  eastern  sky,  and  daily  saw  the  sun  rise  above  the 
distant  hills  which  shut  off  the  Nile  valley  from  the 
Arabian  desert.  The  Libyan  desert,  on  the  eastern 
fringe  of  which  we  camped,  stretches  for  two  thousand 
miles  and  more  in  a  westerly  direction  till  it  reaches 
Morocco,  that  land  of  the  setting  sun  known  in  Egypt 
as  el-Maghrib,  the  West. 

The  '  call  of  the  desert '  could  easily  have  been 
satisfied  without  crossing  the  Nile  valley  ;  but  the 
Libyan  desert  called  me  no  further  into  its  tractless 
wastes  than  to  the  Valley  of  the  Tombs  of  the  Kings. 
Distance  lent  an  enchantment  to  the  view  of  the  low- 
lying  hills  between  me  and  the  rising  sun,  and  as  Alice 
wished  to  see  what  went  on  in  the  room  beyond  the 
looking-glass,  so  I  felt  drawn  to  the  land  which  lay 
between  those  hills  and  the  Red  Sea. 

It  was  across   that  tract   that  the   Thebans  of  old 

206 


THE    JOURNEY    TO    KOSSEIR 

journeyed  to  the  port  of  Kosseir  to  bring  back  the 
products  from  the  far  East.  Beyond  those  hills  gangs 
of  slaves  were  driven  to  dig  for  the  gold  now  found  in 
the  tombs  of  the  Pharaohs — King  Solomon's  mines  are 
spoken  of  as  being  there — and  the  Rehenu  valley  of  the 
ancient  Egyptians,  shut  in  with  black  breccia  cliffs, 
echoed  to  the  sounds  of  hammer  and  pick,  while  many 
a  statue  was  there  being  fashioned,  to  be  dragged  down 
to  the  Nile  and  floated  to  far-away  Gizeh  or  Memphis. 

From  the  earliest  dynasties  right  up  to  the  present 
day  each  generation  has  left  its  mark  on  the  rock 
surfaces  between  those  hills  and  the  sea-coast.  Ancient 
Kosseir,  which  remained  a  port  of  some  importance  to 
within  a  quite  recent  date,  had  often  been  the  goal  of 
imaginary  journeys  I  had  made  across  the  desert  which 
lay  between  it  and  my  present  camp. 

Imagine  my  surprise  when,  shortly  after  I  and  my 
assistant  from  Paris  had  settled  down  at  Der  el-Bahri, 
Mr.  Weigall,  who  is  Chief  Inspector  of  Antiquities  in 
Upper  Egypt,  told  me  he  was  about  to  take  that  desert 
journey,  and  wondered  whether  I  would  care  to  accom- 
pany him.  I  had  only  to  provide  my  own  camel  and 
to  share  in  the  provisions  we  should  need  on  the  way  ; 
the  chief  expense  of  the  train  of  camels  and  men  to  take 
the  tents,  the  water-supply,  and  the  other  necessaries  of 
a  desert  journey,  would  be  borne  by  the  government,  as 
Mr.  Weigall  was  going  to  get  information  connected 
with  his  department.  Mr.  Charles  Whymper,  who  had 
come  out  from  England  with  me,  and  Mr.  Erskine 
Nicol,  whom  I  had  long  known  in  Egypt,  were  also 
asked  to  join  the   party.      None  of  us  wished   to  lose 

207 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

such  a  chance,  and  in  three  or  four  days  after  first  hearing 
the  proposal,  we  mounted  our  camels  and  started  from 
Luxor  for  the  over  and  beyond  which  had  been  my 
dream  for  many  a  long  day. 

Our  caravan  consisted  of  twenty-three  camels,  four- 
teen of  which  left  an  hour  or  two  before  us,  to  take  our 
heavy  baggage  to  that  night's  halting-place.  We  four 
started  in  company  of  the  sheykh  of  the  camel-drivers, 
two  guards,  Mr.  Weigall's  servant,  who  carried  our  lunch, 
and  an  Ababdi  son  of  the  desert,  who  acted  as  our 
guide.  We  struck  inland  for  a  short  distance  and  then 
took  a  northern  course  parallel  to  the  Nile  ;  we  skirted 
the  further  side  of  the  ruins  of  Karnak,  and  shortly  after 
left  the  cultivation  to  continue  our  route  on  the  higher 
level  of  the  desert.  During  the  twenty  miles  of  our 
first  day's  ride  nothing  could  have  been  more  dissimilar 
than  the  country  on  our  right  to  that  which  we  beheld 
to  the  left  of  us.  The  contrast  was  startling — the 
scorching  desert  on  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  the 
shady  palm  groves  on  the  fringe  of  the  cultivation,  with 
the  rich  dark  soil  covered  in  places  by  the  Nile's  over- 
flow or  just  turning  to  green  by  the  lately  sown  crops. 
Yet  this  very  contrast  is  more  characteristic  of  Egypt 
than  anything  else  ;  and  it  is  this  which  must  have  called 
forth  the  saying  of  Herodotus  that  '  Egypt  is  the  gift  of 
the  Nile.' 

We  halted  for  lunch  under  the  shade  of  the 
tamarisk  trees,  which  seem  able  to  grow  on  a  slightly 
higher  level  than  the  palms.  The  shade  was  more  than 
welcome  ;  for  sitting  still  in  the  noonday  sun  is  a 
very  different  matter  to  passing  through  it  even  at  the 

208 


A   MARKET  ON  THE  EDGE  OF  THE  DESERT 


>>i 


THE    JOURNEY    TO    KOSSEIR 

gentle  trot  of  our  camels.  It  was  a  beautiful  spot,  for  no 
trees  harmonise  with  a  desert  background  as  do  the 
tamarisks,  and  these  had  an  especially  massive  and 
plumy  leafage  of  an  even  more  delicate  grey  than 
usual ;  their  gnarled  and  twisted  trunks  seeming  a 
mute  protest  to  the  poor  soil  in  which  fate  had  forced 
them  to  grow. 

We  did  not  remain  here  long,  as  we  wished  to  reach 
the  Coptic  convent.  Maris  Bughtra,  while  there  was 
still  daylight,  and  there  we  proposed  to  pitch  our  camp 
for  the  night.  Though  the  sun  was  hot,  the  crisp  air 
was  so  invigorating  that  what  would  be  a  very  fatiguing 
day  elsewhere  is  easily  borne  in  the  desert.  The 
motion  of  the  camel  is  trying  till  one  has  got  accustomed 
to  it,  and  a  few  miles  will  cause  the  beginner  an  in- 
credible amount  of  stiffness.  There  being  no  stirrups, 
it  takes  some  time  to  learn  to  rise  and  fall  with 
the  motion  of  the  beast,  and  until  that  is  acquired 
every  stride  means  a  bump  for  the  would-be  rider.  I 
had  unhappily  not  acquired  this,  and  felt  rather  stiff  and 
sore  when  I  dismounted  for  lunch  ;  when  we  halted  at 
the  end  of  that  day's  journey  the  stiffness  was  positive 
pain.  I  had  misgivings  as  to  how  I  should  feel  by  the 
time  Kosseir  was  reached  and  when  longer  hours  in  the 
saddle  would  be  the  order  of  the  day.  To  lie  down 
seemed  more  painful  than  to  walk  about,  for  on  what- 
ever part  of  one's  anatomy  one  rested  that  part  seemed 
more  painful  than  any  other — until  one  tried  tliat 
other. 

Outside  the  walls  of  the  Coptic  convent  we  came  on 
our  baggage,  and  found   the  men  already  pitching  our 

2  D  209 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

tents,  hobbling  the  camels,  and  boiling  some  water  over 
a  fire  of  dry  brushwood.  We  sent  some  one  to  Qus 
(on  the  outskirts  of  which  little  town  this  convent  is 
situated)  to  find  the  priest  who  could  show  us  over  the 
building.  No  monks  dwell  there  at  present  and  the 
chapel  is  only  used  on  the  day  dedicated  to  Saint 
Bughtra,  whoever  he  may  be.  All  that  remains  of  the 
convent,  except  the  chapel,  could  be  seen  before  the 
priest  arrived,  as  the  fortress-like  wall  which  encircled 
it  had  crumbled  down  in  several  places.  A  few  cells 
were  still  roofed  over,  but  for  the  most  part  ugly  ruin 
had  disfigured  the  buildings.  Except  where  some  fine 
columns  or  portals  have  endured  the  wear  and  tear  of 
ages,  as  in  the  case  of  some  of  the  temples,  a  desert 
ruin  is  a  depressing  sight  ;  no  growth  to  hide  the 
shapeless  bits  of  fallen  masonry  are  there,  neither  moss 
nor  lichen  give  it  the  beautiful  colouring  associated  with 
the  remains  of  bygone  structures.  A  shrine  which  may 
have  crumbled  down  centuries  ago  might  have  fallen 
in  the  day  before  yesterday  unless  the  desert  winds  had 
swept  a  covering  of  sand  to  give  it  a  partial  burial. 

The  little  many-domed  church  still  stood  erect 
amidst  the  fallen  masonry,  and  when  the  priest  arrived 
and  fumbled  with  his  wooden  key  to  loose  the  bolt  in 
the  ponderous  lock,  our  expectations  somewhat  revived. 
Some  tawdry  objects  of  piety  showed  that  some  folks 
still  remained  who  gave  this  place  of  worship  a  passing 
thought  ;  but  in  the  otherwise  neglected  interior  these 
tawdry  ornaments  reminded  me  horribly  of  the  patches 
of  paint  I  have  seen  on  the  cheeks  of  a  corpse  laid  out 
for  burial  in  Portugal.      The  simile  may  be  far-fetched, 

2IO 


THE    JOURNEY    TO    KOSSEIR 

but  there  it  was,  and  I  was  pleased  when  we  had  gone 
through  the  farce  of  giving  the  priest  his  gratuity — 
called,  to  save  his  face,  '  for  the  upkeep  of  the  church.' 

We  found  our  camp  all  prepared  for  us  when  we 
rejoined  it.  The  packing-cases  which  served  as  a  table 
were  neatly  set  for  dinner,  and  our  saddles  were  arranged 
to  do  duty  as  chairs.  Our  two  sleeping-tents  stood 
primly  one  on  each  side  of  the  small  marquee  which 
served  as  a  dining-room.  Weigall's  servant  was  an 
excellent  cook,  and  a  long  day  in  the  desert  had 
prepared  us  to  do  justice  to  his  dishes.  The  saddles 
make  very  good  chairs  when  sitting  is  not  a  painful 
operation  ;  they  are  covered  with  sheepskin,  but  the 
thickest  fleece,  in  my  condition,  could  not  disguise  the 
hard  wooden  skeleton  beneath  it.  An  air-cushion 
helped  matters  a  trifle,  though  the  air  seemed  harder 
than  it  usually  is.  Stiflriess  crept  over  the  bodies  of  the 
two  of  us  who  had  most  recently  come  from  England  ; 
but  on  comparing  our  complaints  I  fancied  that  I  had 
more  than  my  share — I  was  more  conscious  of  it 
anyhow. 

When  the  dinner  was  cleared  and  pipes  were  alight, 
we  discussed  our  several  interests  in  our  desert  journey. 
To  Charles  Whymper  the  birds  we  had  seen  along  the 
fringe  of  the  cultivation  were  of  the  greatest  importance. 
We  had  passed  many  white  Egyptian  vultures  ;  we  had 
also  put  up  some  coveys  of  cream-coloured  coursers  ; 
the  desert  lark,  the  sand-grouse,  and  desert  martins  had 
all  been  seen  as  well  as  the  fimiliar  hoopoes,  the  black 
kite,  the  little  owl,  and  green  bee-eaters — or  shall  we 
call   them  blue,  for  they  can   be  either  colour  according 

21  I 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

as  the  light  catches  their  plumage  ?  The  archaeological 
interests  were  still  before  us,  and  though  these  had  not 
been  explored  for  some  time,  records  of  journeys  in 
this  eastern  desert  have  been  left  by  the  German 
Egyptologist  Lepsius,  by  Golenischeff,  the  Russian,  as 
well  as  by  the  more  recent  Schweinfiirth.  Its  pictorial 
aspects  appealed  to  each  of  us,  and  as  I  had  brought 
my  sketching  materials  I  hoped  that  there  might  be 
sufficiently  long  halts  to  allow  of  my  doing  some 
painting.  Erskine  Nicol  is  well  versed  in  the  habits  of 
the  wandering  tribes  who  pitch  their  tents  on  the  higher 
levels  where  the  cultivation  stops  short.  The  Ababdi 
and  the  Bishareen  territories  meet  on  this  desert  high- 
road, and  we  should  probably  come  across  a  few  of 
both  one  and  the  other.  As  we  were  to  start  soon 
after  sunrise  the  next  morning,  we  deferred  our  topics 
of  conversation  to  another  occasion. 

It  was  still  dark  in  our  tents  when  we  were  awakened, 
because  the  heavy  baggage  was  to  be  got  off  as  soon 
after  daybreak  as  possible.  The  tents  were  lowered  and 
stowed  away  on  the  camels,  leaving  us  to  pack  our 
bedding  in  the  open,  and  it  was  surprising  to  find  what 
a  difference  in  temperature  there  was  when  our  canvas 
shelters  were  removed.  It  was  bitterly  cold,  and  much 
movement  was  impossible  in  my  case,  for  I  was  rigidly 
stiff.  I  stuck  to  a  couple  of  blankets,  and  with  some 
straps  improvised  a  primitive  garment  ;  my  camel  served 
as  a  shelter  from  the  cold  breeze  and  made  a  warm  back 
to  lean  against,  while  we  squatted  in  a  circle  to  have  our 
breakfast.  The  blankets  would  serve  later,  when  the 
sun  got  up,  as  extra  padding  to  the  saddle. 

212 


THE    JOURNEY    TO    KOSSEIR 

Our  cross  desert  journey  began  this  morning,  for  on 
the  previous  day  we  had  skirted  the  cultivation  to  reach 
at  Qus  the  mediaeval  route  from  the  Nile  to  the  Red  Sea 
port.  We  started  before  the  baggage  train  of  camels, 
which  would  overtake  us  before  we  reached  Lakcta,  a 
small  oasis  where  we  should  spend  the  night.  Selim, 
as  the  cook  was  called,  and  our  Ababdi  guide  accom- 
panied us.  The  former  looked  a  quaint  object,  seated 
on  his  camel  amidst  pots  and  kettles,  photographic 
apparatus,  sketching  materials,  and  any  other  odds  and 
ends  which  we  might  require  before  the  camp  would 
again  be  pitched. 

The  rising  sun  was  very  beautiful ;  when  I  have  tried 
to  paint  it,  it  has  always  risen  and  lost  its  rich  colouring 
too  quickly.  This  morning  I  was  concerned  with  the 
slowness  of  these  proceedings,  for  until  it  rose  well 
above  the  distant  hills  I  felt  perished  with  the  cold. 
We  could  plainly  see  the  cliffs  around  Hatshepsu's 
temple,  right  across  the  Nile  valley ;  they  and  the  Theban 
hills  were  pink  in  the  early  sunlight  whilst  we  were 
still  in  the  shade.  Slowly  the  light  caught  us  on  our 
high  mounts,  while  the  soil  beneath  us  was  still  in  a 
blue  grey  tone.  Looking  back  after  a  while  camel  legs 
a  mile  long  could  be  seen  in  pale  shadow  on  the  track 
behind  us,  and  by  the  time  they  contracted  to  a 
lengthened  silhouette  of  a  comprehensible  form,  I  began 
to  feel  my  blankets  were  more  than  I  could  stand. 

To  unrobe  on  a  trotting  camel  was  no  easy  matter, 
and  to  make  the  camel  do  anything  different  from  those 
ahead  of  it  was  an  impossibility,  I  had  practised  making 
the   peculiar   noise  ot  the   bedouin  when  they   wish  to 

213 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

make  their  beasts  kneel  down — it  spells  something  like 
this,  '  ghrrr,'  and  is  repeated  at  rapid  intervals.  Laura, 
as  my  camel  was  called,  either  affected  not  to  understand 
me  or  felt  too  great  a  contempt  for  her  rider  to  heed 
what  he  said.  She  was  very  nearly  riderless  before  the 
unrobing  was  completed,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  Laura 
had  not  that  wish  in  her  mind.  When  I  was  near 
landing  on  her  neck,  I  thought  I  saw  Laura's  mouth 
working  up  towards  my  boot,  which  was  her  way 
of  smiling.  I  tried  to  fix  the  blankets  over  the  saddle, 
for  the  wooden  skeleton  beneath  the  sheepskin  seemed 
painfully  near  parts  of  my  skeleton  ;  but  I  only  gave 
Laura  fresh  cause  to  smile. 

The  clatter  of  Selim's  pots  and  pans  was  not  far 
behind  me,  so  I  yelled  out  to  the  cook  to  overtake  me 
and  to  stow  my  blankets  amongst  his  ironmongery. 
Laura  disapproved  of  this,  for,  as  the  clatter,  clatter 
behind  me  got  louder,  she  quickened  her  pace.  There 
are  no  reins  to  check  the  creatures  ;  the  camel  rope  is 
merely  fastened  to  a  face  strap,  which  is  held  in  place 
by  a  second  strap  passing  behind  the  nape  of  the  neck. 
I  lugged  on  to  the  rope  as  hard  as  I  could,  but  as 
there  were  no  stirrups  I  should  have  pulled  myself  off 
the  saddle  before  I  could  have  bent  the  beast's  stiff 
neck.  Not  to  be  beaten,  I  placed  my  foot  on  her  neck, 
and  thus  got  a  sufficient  leverage  to  pull  her  head  side- 
ways till  I  could  see  her  ugly  profile  ;  by  this  means  I 
checked  her  pace  sufficiently  for  the  cook  to  overtake 
me,  and  I  threw  the  blankets  amid  the  pots  and  pans. 

We  reached  Gebel  el-Korn  about  noon  ;  we  had 
seen  this  hill  for  the  last  two  hours  reflected  in  what 

214 


THE    JOURNEY    TO    KOSSEIR 

appeared  to  be  a  lake,  and  as  this  effect  of  the  mirage  dis- 
appeared here,  we  saw  it  repeated  in  the  distance  beyond. 
Three  routes  to  Kosseir  join  at  this  point ;  the  mediaeval 
one  we  had  been  on  was  a  part  of  the  highway  which  the 
caravans  took  since  the  Mohammedan  invasion  and  until 
Keneh  eclipsed  Qus  as  a  Nilotic  town.  The  Keneh  route, 
starting  some  twenty  miles  further  down  the  river,  is  still 
used  by  the  Arabs,  who  bring  camels  from  Arabia  to 
barter  in  the  Nile  valley.  The  ancient  Egyptian  road 
was  from  Kuft,  known  as  Koptos  in  Graeco-Roman 
times,  and  starts  about  midway  between  the  two  others 
to  join  the  one  great  highway  uniting  the  Thebaid  to 
the  sea. 

Gebel  el-Korn,  or  the  Hill  of  the  Horn,  would  have 
been  more  attractive  had  it  been  steep  enough  to  shade 
us  from  the  midday  sun.  The  rise  in  temperature  in 
the  moist  air  of  cultivated  lands  is  as  nothing  to  what  it 
is  in  the  dry  air  of  the  desert.  We  saw  some  bushes  ahead, 
along  what  appeared  to  be  a  dried  watercourse,  and  we 
decided  to  move  on  and  possibly  to  find  some  shade  in 
which  to  pass  our  midday  halt.  This,  however,  was 
nothing  more  than  camel-thorn — a  dried-up  mass  of 
prickles — as  useless  for  shade  as  it  apparently  was  for 
fodder.  But  Laura  and  the  other  camels  thought 
differently  ;  the  absence  of  shade  did  not  trouble  them, 
and  the  way  they  started  devouring  these  long  sharp 
thorns  reminded  us  that  of  the  twenty-three  camels 
which  formed  our  caravan  not  one  carried  anything  in 
the  shape  of  fodder.  They  would  be  away  no  less  than 
a  fortnight  from  the  cultivation,  and  on  questioning  our 
guide  as  to  what  the  creatures  would   have  to  eat,  he 

215 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

seemed  to  think  that  enough  fodder  could  be  picked 
up  on  the  journey.  '  You  forget  the  hump,'  said  one 
of  our  companions.  Camels  having  '  the  hump '  is  an 
old  and  well-seasoned  jest,  but  their  feeding  on  their 
humps  was  news  to  me.  I  decided  to  examine  Laura's 
hump  when  next  she  was  unsaddled  and  see  if  it  held 
a  fortnight's  nutrition,  also  to  take  daily  observations 
of  its  disappearance.  The  throaty  noise  spelt  '  ghrrr  ! ' 
from  our  guide  brought  his  camel  down  on  its  haunches. 
I  made  the  same  noise,  or  thought  I  did,  and,  like 
descending  a  lift  in  two  shifts,  Laura  came  down  to  the 
ground.  She  looked  at  me  when  I  jumped  off,  as  much 
as  to  say,  '  Don't  flatter  yourself  that  I  have  come  down 
owing  to  the  silly  noise  you  made ;  I  was  only  following 
the  example  of  my  husband  over  there.' 

Laura  was  not  her  real  name,  it  was  more  like 
Laharrha  with  a  throat-scraping  sound  in  the  middle. 
This  was  not  euphonious,  and  all  the  throat-scraping 
sounds  I  could  produce  were  to  be  reserved  for  when  a 
halt  should  be  called. 

We  decided  to  lunch  on  the  top  of  a  low-lying  hill 
where,  if  there  was  no  shade,  we  should  at  all  events 
get  the  benefit  of  what  breeze  there  was.  My  word  ! 
we  did  enjoy  that  lunch.  I  forget  what  we  had,  and 
can  only  remember  the  appetite  with  which  we  ate  it. 
I  kept  some  back  for  Laura,  to  see  if  kindness  could 
overcome  the  dislike  I  felt  sure  she  had  for  me.  She 
gobbled  it  up,  and  nearly  took  a  bit  of  my  hand  with  it. 
I  think  she  preferred  this  to  the  sharp  thorns  of  her  last 
snack;  but  if  she  felt  any  gratitude,  she  careRiUy  dis- 
guised it.      It  was  probably  more  contempt  for  me  as  a 

216 


THE  TOMBS  OF  THE  KHALIFS 


THE    JOURNEY    TO    KOSSEIR 

rider  than  a  dislike  of  me  personally.      Her  expression 
was  as  a  sealed  book  with  an  ugly  cover. 

Now  was  the  time  to  fix  the  blankets  on  to  the 
saddle,  and  the  Ababdi  guide  and  Selim  made  a  good 
job  of  it.  The  trot  at  which  we  started  was  less  pain- 
ful in  consequence,  and  I  had  also,  by  carefully  watching 
the  motion  of  our  guide,  fallen  into  the  movement  my- 
self, and  the  bump,  bump  of  the  previous  day,  which 
had  caused  my  discomfiture,  disappeared,  and  I  rose 
and  fell  to  the  motion  of  my  mount.  When  once  this 
is  acquired,  a  long  day's  ride  will  cause  less  stiiftiess  than 
an  hour's  journey  to  a  novice. 

It  was  not  until  we  had  reached  Gebel  el-Korn  that 
we  finally  lost  sight  of  the  Der  el-Bahri  cliffs.  A  feel- 
ing of  being  far  away  from  home  and  of  venturing  into 
the  unknown  got  hold  of  me,  though  I  was  barely 
twenty  miles  in  a  direct  line  from  the  hut  beneath  those 
cliffs.  I  consoled  myself  that  the  assistant  I  had  brought 
out  from  Paris  had  some  French  neighbours  close  by, 
who  could  assist  him  with  his  novel  housekeeping. 
M.  Baraize  and  his  wife  would  also  appreciate  having  a 
near  neighbour  who  spoke  their  language. 

Nothing  much  in  the  way  of  archaeological  finds 
were  made  during  the  day,  and  these  were  not  to  be 
expected  till  the  wide  track  closed  in  between  the  rock 
surfaces.  We  saw  in  the  distance  the  little  oasis  of 
Laketa,  with  its  palms  upside  down  in  illusive  sheets  of 
water  at  their  bases ;  for  a  moment  it  looked  like  an 
island  shimmering  in  the  sunlight,  and  which  might 
vanish  as  easily  as  the  reflections  it  cast.  It  looked  as 
if  it  might  be  reached  in  a  half-hour's  trot  ;   but  it   had 

2  E  217 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

that  look  for  a  long  while — the  appearance  of  water 
gave  way  to  that  of  the  arid  waste  all  around  us  more 
than  an  hour  before  the  oasis  was  reached. 

How  strange  it  looked  when  we  were  near  enough 
to  see  some  crops,  between  the  palms,  growing  apparently 
out  of  the  desert  soil.  We  then  caught  sight  of  a  man 
working  a  shadoofs  and  after  that  we  could  distinguish 
the  chessboard  patterning  of  the  ground,  so  familiar  in 
the  Nile  valley.  The  whole  oasis  seemed  little  more 
than  three  or  four  acres  in  extent;  but  probably  a  good 
deal  more  cultivable  soil  had  been  covered  by  the  sand 
drifts  where  no  walling  existed  to  prevent  this.  Some 
half-dozen  Ababdi  families  lived  here ;  our  guide  found 
friends  amongst  them,  and  we  heard  some  greetings  in 
their  dialect.  The  people  seemed  very  little  surprised 
to  see  us,  and  this  not  being  a  tourist-ridden  spot,  we 
had  no  beggars.  A  building  with  a  many-domed  roof 
stood  here,  and  looked  very  like  a  deserted  Coptic 
convent,  though  I  was  told  that  it  was  formerly  built  for 
an  Arab  caravanserai. 

I  watched  a  woman  patching  up  the  mud  runnels  to 
carry  the  water  from  the  shadoof  to  the  furthest  squares 
of  cultivated  ground,  and  I  tasted  the  water  when  the 
man  first  tilted  it  out  of  his  leathern  bucket.  It  was 
distinctly  brackish — the  only  thing,  of  course,  which 
these  poor  creatures  had  to  drink.  The  man  did  not 
seem  to  mind  that;  but  he  complained  that  it  was  a 
thirsty  soil,  and  that  working  all  day  at  the  shadoof 
hardly  brought  up  a  sufficiency  of  water  to  irrigate  his 
little  patch  of  corn.  Taking  me  for  an  official,  he 
asked  me  if  I  could  not  induce  the  government  to  place 

218 


THE    JOURNEY    TO    KOSSEIR 

a  small  pumping  station  here.  '  Were  it  only  known 
what  a  lot  could  be  grown  here  if  enough  water  could 
be  got  up,  the  government  would  not  hesitate  to  bring 
the  machinery.'  The  poor  man  might  genuinely  have 
thought  so  ;  but  the  cost  of  the  fuel,  brought  to  this 
out-of-the-way  place  to  raise  the  brackish  water,  had 
evidently  not  entered  the  man's  calculations. 

Canon  Tristram  mentions  in  his  book.  The  Great 
Sahara^  that  artesian  wells  were  used  by  the  Rouaras 
centuries  before  the  principle  of  those  wells  was 
acknowledged  in  Europe.  What  a  blessing  they  might 
be  here  !  Possibly  the  sub-soil  would  not  be  suitable 
for  such  borings  or  they  would  have  been  in  use. 

The  sun  was  still  hot  enough  for  us  to  enjoy  our 
tea  in  the  shade  of  the  tamarisks  which  grew  here. 
The  children  watched  us  from  a  distance  and  spoke  in 
hushed  voices.  '  Were  these  people  dangerous  who 
spoke  in  an  unknown  tongue  and  wore  a  strange  garb?' 
A  smile  and  a  hint  that  sugar  was  good  brought  them  a 
little  nearer.  A  venturesome  little  tot  came  near  enough 
to  pick  up  a  lump,  and  then  scampered  away ;  by  the 
time  we  had  finished  our  tea,  the  juvenile  population  of 
Laketa  knew  the  taste  of  a  Huntley  and  Palmer  biscuit 
and  a  lump  of  sugar. 

A  little  bird,  the  green  willow- wren,  according  to 
our  ornithologist,  was  less  shy  than  the  children,  and 
picked  up  crumbs  long  before  the  latter  ventured  so 
near  us. 

Our  baggage  camels  were  only  just  in  sight  when 
we  sat  down,  and  at  their  rate  of  travel  it  would  take  an 
hour  and  a  halt  before  they  reached  us.     I  tried  to  make 

21  9 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

a  sketch  of  the  Httle  oasis,  which  looked  charming  in 
the  evening  sunhght,  but  I  was  too  stiff  and  tired  to  do 
much.  A  vague  hope  that  it  might  look  as  well  on  our 
return  journey  induced  me  to  put  up  my  materials  and  lie 
on  my  back  and  stare  at  nothing  in  particular,  till  I 
became  unconscious  of  my  surroundings. 

It  was  dark  when  I  was  awakened  by  the  noise  of 
the  men  driving  in  the  tent-pegs.  The  four  tents,  in- 
cluding the  little  one  which  served  as  a  cook-shop,  were 
being  erected,  camp  beds  and  bedding  sorted  out  and 
fixed  up,  and  all  the  other  bustle  was  going  on  of 
pitching  a  camp.  While  I  slept,  Weigall  had  found  our 
first  graffiti  :  it  was  a  fragment  of  stone  on  which  we 
could  read  the  name  of  the  Emperor  Tiberius  Claudius. 

A  very  good  account  of  the  archaeological  finds  we 
made  during  our  journey  is  given  in  Mr.  Arthur 
Weigall's  Travels  i?i  the  Upper  Egyptia?i  Deserts^ 
published  by  Messrs.  Blackwood  and  Sons.  These  have 
been  so  fijlly  described  in  that  handy  volume,  that  I  do 
not  purpose  to  mention  more  than  one  or  two. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

THE   VALLEY    OF    HAMMAMAT 

WE  left  Laketa  at  dawn  the  next  day.  Being  on 
higher  ground  and  so  much  further  in  the 
desert,  we  fek  the  cold  more  than  on  the 
previous  morning,  and  it  was  hard  to  realise  that  we 
should  be  seeking  a  shady  spot  for  our  luncheon  at 
midday.  We  trotted  our  camels  faster  than  previously, 
as  if  in  a  hurry  to  get  nearer  the  luminous  red  disk 
which  was  peering  over  the  distant  hills. 

The  desert  so  far  was  hard  surfaced,  and  not  the 
sandy  waste  one  is  given  to  expect.  When  I  attempted 
to  make  Laura  go  at  more  than  a  fast  trot,  I  soon  looked 
anxiously  about  for  soft  places  below,  and  I  was  lucky 
in  having  kept  my  seat  till  she  caught  up  with  the  rest 
of  the  party,  when  she  as  usual  took  her  pace  from  that 
of  the  leader. 

We  passed  nothing  of  exceptional  interest  during 
the  first  ten  miles.  The  valley  we  followed  would  widen 
out  to  a  mile  or  more,  and  sometimes  contract  to  a  few 
hundred  feet.  The  rows  of  camel  tracks,  marked  here 
and  there  by  the  skeleton  of  one  which  had  fallen  on 
the  way,  showed  that  this  was  still  an  important  high- 
way. I  counted  over  twenty  of  these  skeletons  during 
one  hour's  ride.      Some  may  have  been  bleaching  there 

221 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

for  many  years,  but  a  few  were  of  sufficiently  recent 
date  to  make  it  advisable  to  keep  on  the  windward  side 
of  them.  The  hackneyed  camel  ribs  in  the  foregrounds 
of  pictures  of  desert  incidents  are  not  the  stage  property 
I  used  to  think  they  might  be. 

The  Kasr  el-Benat,  or  '  the  Castle  of  the  Maidens,' 
was  the  first  object  of  real  archaeological  interest  we 
reached.  It  is  a  Roman  station  known  formerly  as  the 
Hydreuma,  and  is  still  in  a  very  fair  state  of  preservation. 
No  new  builders  have  been  at  work  near  here  since,  to 
use  it  as  a  quarry  with  ready-cut  stones  ;  and  Time  in 
the  desert  deals  gently  with  the  structures  of  bygone 
ages.  Roman  soldiers  in  charge  of  gangs  of  quarrymen 
have  used  the  little  vaulted  chambers  within  the  large 
rectangular  enclosing  wall. 

A  huge  rock  close  by  was  covered  with  inscriptions 
and  rude  drawings,  dating  from  the  early  dynasties  to 
the  times  when  Arab  traders  began  to  use  this  highway  to 
the  coast.  Drawings  and  photographs  were  duly  taken  of 
these  records ;  and  during  most  of  that  day  we  zigzagged 
across  the  valley  to  wherever  a  smooth  rock  surface 
showed  any  likelihood  of  inscriptions  being  found.  We 
were  seldom  disappointed,  and  on  one  rock  in  particular 
our  interest  was  particularly  excited,  for  the  graffiti  here 
threw  some  light  on  the  much  vexed  question  as  to  the 
age  of  Akhnaton  when  he  first  came  to  the  throne.  I 
have  described  elsewhere  our  excitement  at  Thebes  when, 
during  the  previous  season,  the  royal  tomb  of  Queen 
Thiy  was  discovered  ;  how,  after  the  body  had  been 
bereft  of  its  royal  casing,  the  archaeological  world  was 
startled  to  find  that  the  body  was  that  of  a  young  man. 

222 


THE    VALLEY    OF    HAMMAMAT 

Since  then  Weigall  has  made  out  a  strong  case  in 
favour  of  the  mummy  being  that  of  the  heretic  Queen's 
son,  Ammonhotep  iv.  {vide  the  October  number  of 
BiackwoocPs  Magazine  for  1907).  This  same  Ammon- 
hotep, when  secure  of  his  throne,  at  the  instigation  of 
his  mother,  proclaimed  the  worship  of  Aton — the  one 
supreme  God  whose  earthly  manifestation  was  the  sun's 
disk — and,  so  as  to  sever  every  tie  with  the  worship  of 
Ammon  and  the  lesser  divinities  of  that  pantheism,  the 
young  Pharaoh  changed  his  name  from  Ammonhotep 
to  Akhnaton,  i.e.  the  Beloved  of  Aton. 

The  weak  point  in  Weigall's  contention  was  the  youth 
of  the  mummy,  which  Dr.  Elliot  Smith  declared  could 
not  have  exceeded  some  five-and-twenty  years  of  age, 
and  it  was  doubtful  whether  he  could  have  inaugurated 
and  carried  out  a  great  religious  revolution  had  he  died 
at  so  early  an  age. 

The  three  cartouches  on  this  rock  face  are  :  one  of 
Queen  Thiy,  one  of  her  son  as  Ammonhotep  iv.,  and 
one  of  the  same  prince  under  the  name  of  Akhnaton. 
The  symbols  of  royalty  are  placed  beneath  each  car- 
touche, while  the  rays  of  the  sun's  disk  embrace  the  three 
from  above.  This  clearly  proves  that  the  Pharaoh  was 
still  a  child  when  he  came  to  the  throne,  and  that  his 
mother  ruled  in  fact  if  not  in  name,  otherwise  the  royal 
cartouches  would  not  have  been  united  as  here  they 
are  ;  and  it  also  proves  that  the  worship  of  Aton  had 
begun  while  the  prince  was  still  under  the  tutelage 
of  his  mother. 

As  the  images  of  Ammon  and  the  lesser  divinities 
were  destroyed  during  the  youth  of  Akhnaton,  so  did 

223 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

the  priests  of  Ammon,  when  the  old  reHgion  was  re- 
stored, deface  the  inscriptions  relating  to  the  newer  creed. 
The  cartouches  here  of  both  Thiy  and  Akhnaton  were 
partly  erased  ;  but  the  rays,  terminating  in  hands,  from 
the  disk  above  were  left  intact  as  if  the  workmen,  sent 
to  obliterate  the  '  marks  of  the  beast,'  feared  to  desecrate 
the  divine  symbol.  Thus  after  three  and  a  half  millen- 
niums this  rock  gives  an  echo  of  the  religious  movement 
which  caused  the  fall  of  the  eighteenth  dynasty. 

I  have  so  far  encroached  on  a  subject  fully  treated 
by  Weigall  because  I  had  devoted  a  chapter  to  it  in 
Below  the  Cataracts  and  sent  this  into  print  before  the 
subject  had  been  so  fully  thrashed  out,  and  while 
speculation  was  rife  as  to  whom  to  ascribe  the  mummy 
found  in  the  royal  sarcophagus  of  the  great  Queen 
Thiy. 

Shortly  after  losing  sight  of  the  tell-tale  rock  and 
the  Roman  Hydreuma,  our  path  lay  through  a  narrowing 
valley  which  contracted  to  a  pass  between  imposing 
masses  of  granite,  now  known  as  el-Mutrak  es-Salam. 
It  was  an  awe-inspiring  pass.  These  gigantic  and 
shiny  black  rocks  which  rose  up  on  each  side  of  us, 
deprived  as  they  were  of  every  vestige  of  growth, 
seemed  hardly  terrestrial,  and  suggested  some  landscape 
in  the  moon.  There  was  no  difficulty  in  finding  a 
shady  place  for  our  midday  meal  and  rest  ;  but  I  was 
glad  when  we  moved  on,  for  there  was  something  as 
oppressive  in  the  aspect  of  the  pass  as  there  was  in  the 
atmosphere.  More  graffiti  were  found  and  duly 
photographed  ;  but  wishing  to  get  into  a  more  open 
country  I  pushed  on  ahead.      I  was  safe  not  to  lose  my 

224 


THE    VALLEY    OF    HAMMANAT 

way  as  long  as  I  followed  the  tracks  of  previous  caravans, 
which  were  plainly  visible.  After  a  couple  of  hours  of 
this  pass  the  black  shiny  rocks  became  hateful  to  me, 
and  when  I  emerged  into  a  wide  valley  again  my  spirits 
rose  rapidly. 

Ranges  of  sandstone  rock  were  to  the  right  and 
left  of  me,  and  though  not  as  beautiflil  in  form  as  the 
limestone  cliffs  of  Der  el-Bahri,  they  were  congenial 
in  colour,  and  set  off  the  intense  blue  of  the  distant 
mountains. 

My  solitary  ride  had  to  come  to  an  end  when  the 
road  branched  off  on  two  sides  of  a  range  of  hills  on 
both  of  which  were  camel  tracks,  though  not  in  equal 
quantities.  There  is  no  risking  a  wrong  route  in  a 
wilderness  such  as  this,  so  I  chose  a  shady  place,  and 
felt  proud  when  I  induced  my  camel  to  go  down  on 
its  knees.  I  tied  up  its  foreleg  in  the  approved  fashion 
to  stop  its  running  away  in  case  I  might  fall  asleep. 
My  companions  might  easily  fail  to  see  me,  but  they 
would  be  sure  to  catch  sight  of  the  camel. 

I  tried  to  analyse  the  charm  of  the  desert,  the  '  Call 
of  the  Desert,'  as  Hichens  aptly  names  it  ;  for  while  I 
rested  here  its  inexplicable  charm  pervaded  my  whole 
being.  I  am  fond  of  my  fellow-creatures  and  am  in 
no  wise  cut  out  for  the  life  of  a  hermit  ;  besides,  many 
lonely  places  exist  far  removed  from  desert  wastes  where 
solitude  can  still  be  enjoyed.  It  was  not,  therefore, 
the  feeling  of  solitude  that  could  alone  explain  the 
desert's  attraction,  now  that  I  had  left  behind  me  the 
oppressive  blackness  of  the  Mutrak  es-Salam  pass.  A 
drowsiness   soon   began    to   displace   my    futile  analysis, 

2   K  225 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

when  a  slight  tickHng  ot  my  ankle  prevented  me  from 
falling  asleep.  My  presence  was  being  resented  by  a 
colony  of  ants  whose  operations  I  was  impeding.  I  had 
to  shift  my  position,  and  there  being  room  enough  for 
them  as  well  as  for  myself  in  this  vast  desert,  I  returned 
those,  which  were  exploring  my  leg,  to  their  companions. 

We  were  some  fifty  miles  from  any  cultivation, 
except  the  little  oasis  where  we  had  last  camped,  so 
what  on  earth  could  have  induced  these  ants  to  choose 
this  spot  ?  The  inexplicable  charm  of  the  desert 
would  soon  fizzle  out  were  we  cut  off  from  water  and 
provisions  ;  and  where  could  these  ants  have  found 
either  ?  I  followed  the  trails,  which  started  from  the 
nest,  to  discover  what  means  of  subsistence  they  had, 
and  found  that  some  camel's  dung,  buried  beneath 
the  sand-drift,  was  the  '  call '  which  had  attracted  them 
so  far. 

Hardly  an  hour  had  passed  since  we  left  the  Nile 
valley  but  we  had  seen  some  animal  life.  Birds  follow 
the  camel  tracks  and  flies  and  beetles  infest  the  Mab- 
wala^  or  stations,  where  the  caravans  rest.  These 
are  often  in  the  only  shady  places,  and  they  often 
obliged  us  to  take  our  midday  meals  in  the  blazing  sun  ; 
for  we  could  hardly  add  a  tent  to  the  load  which  was 
carried  on  Selim's  longsuffering  camel.  We  had  seen 
two  butterflies  that  very  morning,  and  accounted  for 
them  as  having  been  carried  here  by  the  prevailing 
wind.  A  poor  look-out  for  them,  for  the  desert 
reaches  to  the  Red  Sea  coast.  The  ants  puzzled  me, 
for  I  saw  no  signs  of  any  organic  matter  when  I  chose 
my  resting-place. 

226 


THE    VALLEY    OF    HAMMAMAT 

Meditations  in  this  climate  soon  end  in  sleep,  and  I 
became  unconscious  of  my  surroundings  till  I  heard  my 
name  being  shouted.  I  looked  up,  and  behold,  my 
camel  was  gone,  and  following  the  track  in  the  loose 
sand  I  saw  Laura  hobbling  on  three  legs,  about  half  a 
mile  away,  and  making  for  the  guide  who  rode  the 
leading  camel  ;  my  companions  in  the  meanwhile 
were  zigzagging  across  the  valley  to  find  me.  When 
I  caught  the  beast  up  and  satisfied  my  friends  that  I 
was  not  lost,  I  made  Laura  go  down  on  her  knees  to 
allow  me  to  mount,  and  now  all  the  cussedness  of  her 
camel  nature  showed  itself  I  had  to  undo  the  end  of 
the  halter  which  tied  the  foreleg  into  its  bent  position 
and  also  keep  at  a  safe  distance  from  Laura's  teeth.  The 
instant  I  got  it  undone,  up  she  would  jump  before  I 
had  a  chance  of  getting  my  seat.  She  did  this  several 
times,  till  I  was  obliged  to  hang  on  to  her  as  best  I 
could  and  climb  into  my  saddle  while  she  moved  off. 

Canon  Tristram  says  :  '  The  camel  is  by  no  means 
an  amiable  animal,  and  its  owner  never  seems  to  form 
any  attachment  to  his  beast,  nor  the  animal  to  re- 
ciprocate kindness  in  any  degree.  I  never  found  one 
camel  valued  above  his  fellow  for  intelligence  or  affec- 
tion. A  traveller  always  makes  a  friend  of  his  horse, 
most  certainly  of  his  ass,  sometimes  of  his  mule,  but 
never  of  his  camel.  I  have  made  a  journey  in  Africa 
for  three  months  with  the  same  camels,  but  never 
succeeded  in  eliciting  the  slightest  token  of  recogni- 
tion from  one  of  them,  or  a  friendlv  disposition  for 
kindness  shown.'  Canon  Tristram  never  wrote  truer 
words.      Laura    was   a    beast  !      I    would    do    my   best 

227 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

to  get  something  for  her  to  feed  on,  other  than  on 
her  hump,  when  we  should  reach  Kosseir  ;  but  no 
corner  of  my  eye  would  moisten  when  Laura  and  I 
should  part  company. 

When  we  got  to  a  further  reach  in  the  valley,  we 
were  surprised  to  see  some  gazelle.  This  was  more 
surprising  than  the  ants,  for  surely  gazelle  could  find 
neither  fodder  nor  water  here.  That  the  poor  creatures 
had  been  frightened  further  and  further  away  from  the 
cultivation  was  probable,  but  until  they  returned  there 
nothing  but  a  long  fast  awaited  them ;  if  they  were 
making  for  the  coast,  nothing  to  feed  on  awaited  them 
there.  We  were  near  enough  to  have  shot  some  with  a 
rifle,  but  I  am  glad  to  say  that  none  of  us  had  a  rifle ; 
we  had  even  packed  up  our  revolvers  with  the  baggage. 
We  regretted  the  latter  for  a  moment  the  next  day,  but 
of  this  anon. 

We  reached  a  second  Roman  station  as  the  shadows 
were  lengthening;  it  was  considerably  smaller  than  the 
Hydreuma  of  the  morning,  and  was  also  in  a  worse  state 
of  repair.  We  heeded  it  little  beyond  using  one  of  the 
walls  for  our  backs  while  Selim  brewed  us  some  tea. 
The  guide  climbed  one  of  the  hills  to  see  if  there  was 
any  sign  of  the  baggage,  and  on  his  reporting  that  none 
was  visible,  we  could  take  the  next  ten  or  twelve  miles 
to  Bir  Hammamat  at  our  ease.  The  colour  of  the 
landscape  took  extraordinary  combinations  as  the  sun 
declined,  and  as  we  again  approached  the  blackish  hills 
which  contracted  the  caravan  route. 

The  lower-lying  sandstone  hills  turned  a  greyish 
violet,  except  where  a  roseate  light  caught  their  summits, 

228 


THE    VALLEY    OF    HAMMAMaT 

and  purple  black  hung  about  the  base  of  the  Hamma- 
mat  mountains.  The  altitude  of  the  latter  being  con- 
siderably more  than  any  we  had  so  far  seen,  the  heights 
still  reflected  the  light  from  the  setting  sun — a  flame- 
colour  split  up  in  violet  patches  of  shade.  It  was 
wonderful,  but  was  it  beautihil  ?  Where  strange  com- 
binations of  colour  and  form  are  first  seen,  this  question 
is  often  difficult  to  answer.  We  watched  the  dark 
shades  rise  and  spread  over  these  mountains  till  they 
told  black  against  an  ash-grey  sky.  The  Rehenu  Valley 
of  the  Egyptians  was  a  spooky  place  to  enter.  Our 
path  wound  through  great  masses  of  breccia  rock,  and 
it  contracted  in  places  so  that  we  could  hardly  ride 
abreast.  The  darkness  increased  till  the  camels  of  my 
companions  were  lost  in  the  gloom,  and  the  white 
helmets  rising  and  falling  with  the  motion  of  the  beasts 
were  soon  all  that  I  could  see  of  our  party. 

Our  track  becoming  quite  invisible,  there  was  just 
a  chance  that  our  Ababdi  guide  might  take  a  wrong 
turning,  and  if  once  well  out  of  the  beaten  road,  in  a 
wilderness  such  as  this,  it  is  doubtful  whether  we  could 
find  our  way  before  our  water-supply  gave  out. 

The  longed-for  moon  showed  herself  at  last,  and  by 
her  light  we  pursued  our  way  to  the  well  where  we  had 
settled  to  camp  for  the  night.  The  valley  opens  up 
here  to  a  considerable  width,  and  the  well,  known  as 
Bir  Hammamat,  is  a  conspicuous  object  in  the  centre. 
There  was  nothing  now  to  do  but  to  wait  for  our 
baggage  camels,  and  to  keep  ourselves  as  warm  as  we 
could. 

Our  guide  rode  back  to  reconnoitre,  and  when   we 

229 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

could  distinguish  an  answer  to  his  calls,  other  than  the 
echo,  we  were  filled  with  a  sense  of  relief. 

Laketa  is  only  thirty  miles  from  Bir  Hammamat, 
but  with  our  crossing  and  recrossing  the  valleys  in 
search  of  graffiti  we  must  have  ridden  half  again  as  far. 
Dinner  and  sleep,  and  an  easy  day  to  follow,  were 
pleasant  things  to  contemplate. 


CHAPTER    XX 

THE  WADY  FOWAKIYEH  AND  BIR  HAGl  SULIMAN 

WE  slumbered  till  the  sun  beat  down  on  our  tents. 
There  was  enough  water  obtainable  to  fill 
our  collapsible  baths  to  the  brim,  and  good 
enough  for  the  camels  to  drink — poor  brackish  stuff 
we  should  have  found  it,  had  we  depended  on  it  for 
our  own  consumption. 

The  well  seemed  an  immense  depth,  and  had  a 
spiral  staircase  down  it,  though  it  was  dangerous  to 
descend  more  than  a  few  yards.  A  mining  company 
had  of  late  years  partially  restored  the  building  which 
stood  over  it,  and  for  the  first  time  since  we  left  Luxor 
we  saw  the  names  of  some  fellow-countrymen  who 
had  put  this  well  in  workable  order.  Unfinished  sar- 
cophagi lay  near  by,  with  some  flaws  in  the  stone  to 
account  for  their  having  been  left  here  by  the  workmen 
of  one  of  the  Ptolemies. 

We  did  not  propose  to  travel  more  than  a  few  miles 
that  day,  for  the  Wady  Fowakiyeh,  as  the  natives  call  it, 
is  that  part  of  the  Hammamut  valley  where  Lepsius  and 
other  former  explorers  made  their  greatest  finds. 

Now,  as  Mr.  Wcigall  devotes  to  this  valley  many  pages 
in  his  Travc/s  hi  Upper  Rgyptian  Deserts^  I  shall  not 
attempt  to  describe   what  he  has  so  ably  given   to   the 

231 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

public.  I  will  quote  what  he  says  of  our  arrival 
there,  and  of  the  earliest  inscription  which  was  found  : 
'  Amidst  these  relics  of  the  old  world  our  tents  were 
pitched,  having  been  removed  from  Bir  Hammamat  as 
soon  as  breakfast  had  been  finished ;  and  with  camera, 
note-book,  and  sketching  apparatus,  the  four  of  us  dis- 
persed in  different  directions,  my  own  objective,  of 
course,  being  the  inscriptions.  The  history  of  Wady 
Fowakiyeh  begins  when  the  history  of  Egypt  begins, 
and  one  must  look  back  into  the  dim  uncertainties  of 
the  archaic  period  for  the  first  evidences  of  the  working 
of  the  quarries  of  the  valley.  Many  beautifully  made 
bowls  and  other  objects  of  this  tuff  are  found  in  the 
graves  of  Dynasty  i.,  fifty-five  centuries  ago  ;  and  my 
friends  and  I  scrambling  over  the  rocks  were  fortunate 
enough  to  find  in  a  little  wady  leading  northwards  from 
the  main  valley  a  large  rock-drawing  and  inscriptions 
of  this  date.  A  "  vase-maker  "  here  offers  a  prayer  to 
the  sacred  barque  of  the  hawk-god  Horus,  which  is 
drawn  so  clearly  that  one  may  see  the  hawk  standing 
upon  its  shrine  in  the  boat,  an  upright  spear  set  before 
the  door  ;  and  one  may  observe  the  bull's  head,  so  often 
found  in  primitive  countries,  affixed  to  the  prow  ;  while 
the  barque  itself  is  shown  to  be  standing  upon  a  sledge 
in  order  that  it  might  be  dragged  over  the  ground.' 

By  the  modern  German  school  of  computation, 
which  Mr.  Weigall  accepts,  the  period  of  the  Shepherd 
Kings  was  but  of  two  centuries'  duration ;  but  according 
to  the  reckoning  of  the  majority  of  Egyptologists,  this 
period  lasted  a  millennium  longer.  Should  the  latter  be 
right  these  graffiti  would  date  back  sixty-five  centuries; 

232 


THE  MOSyUE  AT  KOSSEIR 


THE    WADY    FOWAKIYEH 

and  from  that  remote  period  (with  the  exception  of  the 
dark  ages  known  as  that  of  the  Hyksos  or  Shepherd 
Kings)  some  signs  of  human  activity  were  visible  in  this 
valley,  telling  us  something  of  the  various  peoples  who 
ruled  Egypt  until  the  three  Englishmen  scratched  their 
names  with  a  penknife  shortly  after  the  British  occupa- 
tion. 

Every  collection  of  Egyptological  objects  will  have 
some  specimens  of  sculptured  stone  quarried  out  of 
these  tufa  and  breccia  rocks. 

1  found  a  large  smooth  surface  of  stone,  forming 
the  back  wall  of  a  hollow  quarried  out  of  a  gigantic 
mass  of  breccia,  which,  in  Ptolemaic  times,  had  been 
made  to  serve  as  a  shrine  to  the  god  Min  of  Koptos, 
the  protecting  deity  of  the  Upper  Egyptian  deserts. 
There  were  signs  that  this  shady  nook  had  recently 
been  used  as  an  Arab  encampment,  and  it  suggested  a 
delightful  subject  to  paint.  I  was  torn  with  conflicting 
emotions  :  whether  to  secure  so  good  a  background  for 
a  figure  subject,  or  whether  to  join  my  companions  in 
their  search  for  archaeological  treasure.  The  back- 
ground won  the  day.  A  faint  hope  that  we  might 
spend  a  second  morning  here  on  our  return  journey, 
which  would  make  it  possible  to  complete  my  study, 
finally  decided  me. 

The  smooth  stone  at  the  back  of  the  hollow  was 
decorated  with  very  delicately  incised  Ptolemaic  work. 
The  spacing  of  the  panels  containing  the  deities  was 
most  artistically  done,  and  the  figures  were  chiselled 
with  a  delicacy  and  style  not  usually  seen  in  work  of 
that  period,     I  had  seen  little  Ptolemaic  sculpture  on  any 

2  G  233 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

other  material  than  on  sandstone,  and  this  was  bound 
to  look  coarse  compared  to  the  eighteenth  dynasty 
work  on  the  finer  grained  limestone.  The  hard  breccia 
rock  surface  gave  the  sculptor  a  chance  ;  and  though 
it  lacked  the  distinction  of  earlier  work,  it  com- 
pared well  as  to  delicacy  of  treatment.  Greek  influence 
seemed  more  apparent  than  ever.  Hathor  looked  less 
of  a  goddess,  and  was  possibly  more  charming  as  a  pretty 
little  mortal  ;  Ammon  Ra  without  his  headdress  would 
have  passed  for  a  lithe  and  well-proportioned  Greek 
slave  ;  but  the  god  Min,  owing  to  his  conventional 
pose,  combined  the  Hellenic  sensuosity  with  the  severer 
Egyptian  traditions.  The  Ptolemy  who  made  offerings 
to  the  above  trilogy  was  a  Greek  grandee  in  the  pose 
and  apparel  of  a  Pharaoh.  The  figures  measured  about 
two  feet  high  except  that  of  an  attendant  priest,  who,  as 
modesty  demanded,  was  a  few  inches  shorter.  There 
were  one  or  two  more  panels  in  which  Min  figured 
conspicuously. 

The  bold  forms  of  the  massive  rock  which  overhung 
this  wall  may  have  helped  to  emphasise  the  delicacy  of 
the  sculpture.  The  colour  of  the  rock  formation  is  as 
extraordinary  as  its  drawing  :  the  untouched  portions 
are  a  chocolate  brown,  and  those  parts  exposed  by  the 
work  of  the  quarrymen  vary  from  green  to  a  bluish 
black. 

When  the  sun  shifted  to  where  I  sat,  the  effect 
changed  so  much  that  it  seemed  hardly  worth  risking 
sunstroke  by  continuing  my  study.  My  companions 
calling  out  their  several  discoveries  tempted  me  to  join 
in  the  hunt.     So  much  of  interest  was  crowded  into  the 

234 


THE    WADY    FOWAKIYEH 

one  day  spent  at  Wady  Fowakiyeh  that  the  thirteenth 
day  of  November  1908  will  remain  as  a  landmark  in  my 
somewhat  varied  existence. 

One  long  inscription,  which  Mr.  Weigall  interpreted, 
tells  us  of  10,000  men  who  were  sent  during  the  eleventh 
dynasty  to  work  the  quarries.  Amongst  this  army  of 
quarrymen  there  were  miners,  artists,  draughtsmen,  stone- 
cutters, gold-workers,  and  officials,  and  full  directions 
were  given  as  to  the  work  they  were  sent  to  do.  When 
one  thought  of  the  voices  of  this  host  of  men,  awakening 
the  echoes  of  the  cliff-bound  valley,  the  present  silence 
became  almost  oppressive.  As  the  shades  deepened  with 
the  declining  sun,  the  impressiveness  of  our  surroundings 
seemed  to  have  got  hold  even  of  our  escort.  We  could 
just  hear  them  muttering  their  evening  prayer,  and 
when  that  was  over  nothing  but  the  crackling  of  the 
fire,  round  which  they  sat,  disturbed  the  stillness  of  the 
night. 

Till  this  point  in  our  journey,  the  road  we  trod  is 
sufficiently  hard  and  smooth  to  allow  a  motor-car  to  do  it 
in  three  or  four  hours.  We  had  now  reached  the  highest 
part  of  the  desert  highway,  but  the  incline  is  so  impercept- 
ible that  only  the  aneroid  could  prove  that  we  were  on  a 
greater  altitude  than  when  we  left  Qiis.  No  motor-car 
could,  however,  cross  the  mile  or  two  of  boulders  which 
choked  up  the  road  on  which  we  made  an  early  start 
the  following  morning.  Most  of  this  we  did  on  foot, 
jumping  from  boulder  to  boulder,  the  men  leading  the 
camels  a  serpentine  route  or  assisting  them  over  the 
rocks  which  blocked  the  way.  We  followed  up  a 
narrow  pass  in  the  mountains  to  inspect  the  abandoned 

23s 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

workings  of  the  gold-mines.  We  soon  came  across 
some  huts  used  by  miners  who  had  in  quite  recent  years 
come  here  to  glean  where  the  early  Egyptians  had 
reaped  a  good  harvest.  The  huts  were  already  in  worse 
repair  than  many  we  saw  at  the  Roman  Hydreuma. 
From  what  I  have  heard  since,  the  modern  working  of 
these  mines  had  soon  been  abandoned  as  a  hopeless  task. 
There  are,  however,  other  mines  north  of  these  which 
are  now  worked  at  a  profit. 

We  decided  to  continue  on  this  pass  and  join  the 
main  route  to  Kosseir  a  few  miles  further  on,  the 
baggage  train,  of  course,  following  the  usual  caravan 
road.  Our  guide  declared  that  he  knew  the  road,  so 
there  seemed  nothing  to  apprehend.  Nevertheless  we 
took  the  precaution  of  leaving  a  trail  behind  us,  as  boys 
do  on  a  paperchase,  for  there  were  tracks  in  the  sand 
of  other  camels  than  our  own,  and  the  road,  such  as  it 
was,  split  up  into  several  winding  passes  through  the 
hills.  As  one  of  our  party  had  chosen  to  follow  the 
baggage,  we  decided  to  send  back  Selim  to  the  main 
highway  to  tell  him  when  and  where  we  expected  to 
join  him,  and  Selim  had  also  instructions  to  prepare 
our  midday  meal  at  that  spot. 

The  landscape  became  more  extraordinary  than 
ever  when  we  left  the  tuff  and  breccia  rocks  behind 
us.  On  either  side  of  us  rose  sandstone  cliffs  worn 
into  the  most  fantastic  shapes.  It  is  difficult  to  associ- 
ate rain  with  such  a  country  as  the  one  we  were  in, 
yet  rain  and  nothing  else  could  have  worn  this  stone 
into  the  shapes  we  now  beheld.  An  inscription  which 
Weigall    had    carefully    copied    described    a    torrential 

236 


THE    WADY    FOWAKIYEH 

shower  which  descended  on  the  quarrymen  in  early 
dynastic  times,  and  which  they  considered  a  good  omen 
of  a  successful  issue  to  their  labours.  Rain  descends  at 
long  intervals,  but  during  periods  as  counted  by  geolo- 
gists an  immense  amount  of  water  had  fashioned  these 
sandstone  rocks  into  their  unearthly  shapes,  for  no 
growth  is  here  to  impede  the  action  of  the  torrential 
streams. 

We  wound  amongst  these  hills  for  two  or  three 
hours,  and  I  was  delighted  when  we  regained  the  high- 
way and  returned  to  less  strange,  though  more  beautiful 
scenery.  But  where  was  Selim  ?  We  fortunately 
could  see  our  companion  in  the  distance,  while  the 
baggage  camels  which  he  followed  were  disappearing 
round  an  angle  in  the  range  of  hills.  We  managed  to 
make  him  hear,  and  he  rode  back  to  meet  us.  He  had 
neither  seen  nor  heard  anything  of  our  cook,  and  had 
the  latter  followed  the  trail  he  should  have  joined  the 
main  body  a  couple  of  hours  ago.  Our  guide  went 
back  to  try  to  find  the  lost  cook,  and  as  he  was  born  to 
the  desert,  we  had  little  fear  of  losing  him.  After  a 
hunt  of  a  couple  of  hours  the  guide  returned,  hoping 
that  Selim  might  have  found  his  way  to  us  by  the  main 
road.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  send  the 
guide  back  to  try  some  of  the  passes  which  he  had 
considered  too  unlikely  for  the  cook  to  have  taken. 

It  was  awkward  to  lose  the  man  on  whom  depends 
your  midday  meal.  But  worse  than  a  long  day's  fist 
was  the  possibility  that  the  man  had  completely  lost  his 
bearings,  in  which  case,  his  bones  and  those  of  his  mount 
might,  at   the  time   I  am  writing,  be  bleaching  in   the 

237 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

desert  surrounded  by  his  pans  and  kettles  as  well  as  by 
our  sketching  and  photographic  paraphernalia. 

About  four  o'clock  a  clatter,  clatter  awoke  us  from 
a  doze  we  had  indulged  in  under  the  shade  of  a  pro- 
jecting rock.  The  cook  had  turned  up  at  last,  still 
trembling  with  the  danger  of  being  lost  which  he  had 
experienced,  and  also  expecting  a  blowing  up  for  being 
so  late  with  our  lunch.  A  puff  of  wind  had,  it 
appeared,  blown  some  of  our  paper  trail  over  a  low 
hillock  into  a  pass  which  we  had  not  taken,  and  seeing 
camel  tracks  there  he  followed  it  up  and  got  lost  in  the 
labyrinth  amongst  the  sandstone  cliffs.  Though  he 
rode  his  camel  well,  his  practice  had  hitherto  been 
confined  to  the  cultivated  land  where  he  could  hardly 
go  a  quarter  of  a  mile  without  meeting  some  one  to 
direct  his  way. 

We  made  a  hasty  meal,  for  we  had  a  long  ride 
before  we  could  reach  our  night's  camping-place.  We 
passed  two  more  Roman  stations,  but  could  not  give 
them  much  time.  The  scenery  increased  in  grandeur 
and  beauty,  for  the  Hammamat  mountains  we  had  left 
behind  us  are  in  truth  more  extraordinary  than  beauti- 
ful. A  high  range  of  limestone  mountains  caught  the 
evening  light,  while  the  meaner  hills  in  the  foreground 
were  lost  in  a  subtle  grey-violet  shade. 

Twilight  is  of  short  duration,  and  not  long  after 
admiring  the  after-glow  on  the  limestone  heights,  we 
had  to  trace  our  way  in  no  other  light  than  that  from 
the  starlit  sky. 

When  we  reached  our  halting-place  for  the  night 
we  found   our  tents   pitched,   table  set,  and   our  meal 

238 


BIR    HAGI    SULIMAN 

ready  to  be  served  up.  Selim  had  got  over  his  fright, 
and  was  anxious  to  do  his  best  to  make  up  for  the 
inconvenience  he  had  put  us  to  during  the  day  ;  the 
Ababdi  guide  hkewise  arrived  before  we  turned  in  for 
the  night.  Our  camp  was  near  another  Roman  station, 
known  by  the  name  of  the  well  close  by,  Bir  Hagi 
Suliman.  Whatever  else  of  interest  there  may  be  in 
a  desert  highway,  the  vital  importance  of  water  (even 
though  it  be  brackish)  is  such  that  the  name  ojf  the 
supply  is  the  name  the  district  is  known  by.  Beer  runs 
this  close  in  London,  judging  from  the  names  of  public- 
houses  being  so  conspicuous  on  any  omnibus  route. 
Should  you  ask  an  Ababdi  Arab  where  the  Hydreuma 
was  he  would  shrug  his  shoulders  ;  but  if  you  mention 
a  well,  el  ^ir^  anywhere  within  fifty  miles,  he  will  be 
able  to  direct  you.  The  similarity  in  the  name  of 
their  water-supplies  to  that  of  the  British  favourite 
drink  is  a  curious  coincidence. 

The  domed  enclosure  of  the  Bir  Hagi  Suliman  was 
in  good  repair,  and  a  tablet  in  the  wall  bore  these 
three  names  and  a  date  :  '  Briggs,  Hancock,  and  Wood, 
1832.'  Probably  the  names  of  three  Englishmen  who 
were  prospecting  for  gold  in  these  regions. 

We  decided  the  next  morning  to  follow  the  caravan 
road,  and  tliat  we  should  return  from  Kosseir  by  a 
second  route  which  joins  this  one  near  the  well.  No 
archaeological  find  was  as  welcome  as  the  first  rays  of 
sun  which  fell  on  our  perishing  bodies.  To  get  out 
of  the  cold  wind  and  creep  along  the  rocks  which  first 
caught  the  morning  sun  was  our  only  thought.  One 
is  obliged    to  dress    in   thin   summer    clothes,    as    these 

239 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

valleys  are  very  hot  by  the  time  the  sun  is  high  in 
the  heavens.  I  strapped  enough  blankets  round  me  to 
give  me  the  appearance  of  a  well-packed  breakable 
object  stowed  on  the  top  of  a  camel,  and  I  kept  near 
the  useful  Selim,  so  as  to  enable  him  to  catch  the 
blankets  as  I  shed  them.  I  had  hardly  got  down  to 
my  cotton  suit  when  we  arrived  at  another  Roman 
station.  It  seemed  as  difficult  to  avoid  Roman  ruins 
here  as  to  get  away  from  trippers  in  the  Nile  valley. 
Some  Cufic  inscriptions  on  a  doorpost  interested  us 
the  most,  as  an  indication  of  this  route  being  used 
soon  after  the  Mohammedan  conquest  of  Egypt.  Our 
ornithologist  had  his  sketch-book  out  to  note  the 
flight  of  some  sandgrouse  which  rose  from  amongst 
the  ruins  as  we  entered  them. 

We  had  met  but  one  or  two  nomad  Arabs  since  we 
left  the  oasis  of  Lakcta,  so  that  our  interest  was  con- 
siderably excited  when  we  perceived  a  considerable 
caravan  advancing  towards  us  in  the  distance.  They 
were  undoubtedly  Arabs  from  the  Hedjaz  who  had 
crossed  the  Red  Sea  to  barter  their  camels  in  the  Nile 
valley — queer  customers  for  so  small  a  party  to  meet 
in  this  lonely  place.  We  were  miles  ahead  of  our 
baggage  train,  and  I  found  that  my  companions  had,  as 
I  had  done,  packed  their  revolvers  in  their  kit-bags. 
We  consoled  ourselves  with  the  thought  that  our  want 
of  precaution  would  not  be  suspected  by  the  people  we 
were  approaching,  and  I  was  more  anxious  to  get  a  shot 
at  them  with  a  hand  camera  than  with  any  more  deadly 
weapon.  They  were  a  most  picturesque  lot,  and  might 
have  posed  for  a  group  of  Hyksos  invaders,  or,  to  come 

240 


DOORWAY  IN    JHE  TEMPLE  OF  ISIS 


*»■ 


•,re<i^«nr''i-w--rt7! 


":■: — -'  ".'^•^^if 


N 


BIR    HAGI    SULIMAN 

to  modern  times  (which  only  their  long-barrelled  guns 
suggested),  they  might  have  been  a  small  host  of  the 
Midianite  Arabs  who  plunder  the  pilgrims  on  the  Mecca 
road.  Some  of  their  womenfolk  were  with  them,  but 
enclosed  in  litters  on  the  camels'  humps. 

1  managed  with  difficulty  to  get  a  couple  of  snap- 
shots :  the  head  of  my  own  camel  had  to  be  avoided, 
and  I  wished  not  to  attract  too  much  attention  from 
the  evil-looking  men,  who  greeted  neither  us  nor  the 
two  Arab  servants  in  our  party — a  most  unusual  occur- 
rence anywhere  in  the  Near  East. 

The  first  bit  of  news  we  heard,  when  we  got  back 
to  Luxor,  was  that  a  party  of  three  Egyptians  had  been 
attacked  by  Arabians  travelling  from  Kosseir  to  Keneh, 
and  the  date  given  was  that  of  the  day  after  we  had  met 
these  people.  One  Egyptian  had  been  killed,  and  the 
two  others  had  managed  to  escape.  The  attacking 
party  could  have  been  no  other  than  the  one  we  passed. 
Whether  they  were  ever  brought  to  justice,  or  whether 
they  were  able  to  recross  the  Red  Sea  and  get  safe  back 
to  the  Hedjaz,  I  was  never  able  to  ascertain.  Little 
news,  except  that  which  an  occasional  European  paper 
gave  us,  reached  my  camp  at  Der  el-Bahri  when  I  was 
reinstalled  there. 

We  halted  at  midday  at  a  well  in  an  open  plain. 
Bir  el-Ingliz,  as  this  well  is  called,  and  also  the  names  of 
two  Frenchmen,  on  a  rock  near  by,  and  dated  1799, 
vaguely  recalled  some  incidents  in  the  fight  between 
France  and  England  during  the  Napoleonic  wars. 
Desaix,  who  commanded  the  French  troops  in  Upper 
Egypt  1799,  must  have  sent  his  men  by  this  route  to 

2  H  241 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

garrison  the  still  existing  fort  at  Kosseir.  We  know  of 
no  record  that  the  young  French  general  was  ever  at 
Kosseir  himself;  but  we  know  that  in  January  1800 
both  Desaix  and  Kleber  signed  the  convention  of  el- 
Arish,  six  months  after  Buonaparte  had  left  Egypt. 
The  two  Frenchmen,  Forcard  and  Materon,  whose 
names  we  find  near  the  well,  were  therefore  in  all 
probability  returning  with  a  detachment  from  Kosseir 
to  join  Desaix  before  he  went  north  to  el-Arish.  The 
English  could  not  have  restored  this  well  till  two  years 
later,  as  it  was  not  till  May  1801  that  an  Anglo-Indian 
force,  under  Baird,  landed  at  Kosseir  and  drove  the 
garrison  back  into  the  desert. 

Though  the  well  is  known  as  Bir  el-Ingliz,  it  is 
probable  that  the  English  put  an  already  existing  one 
into  working  order,  and  built  the  well-house  as  a  pro- 
tection to  it.  Some  of  its  slightly  brackish  water  may 
have  been  the  cause  of  these  Frenchmen  resting  here. 

A  magnificent  range  of  limestone  cliffs,  which  came 
into  view  soon  after  our  rest,  shut  us  off  from  any 
glimpse  we  might  have  had  of  the  sea.  These  were  the 
finest  mountains  I  had  seen  in  Egypt ;  their  formation  is 
very  similar  to  that  of  the  Der  el-Bahri  cliffs,  but  they 
were  more  imposing  from  their  greater  altitude. 

As  we  approached  the  northern  extremity  of  the 
range,  a  patch  of  vivid  green  had  a  singular  attraction  for 
us,  and  hastened  the  trot  of  our  camels.  It  could  not  be 
a  mirage,  for  the  form  that  phenomenon  took,  as  far  as  our 
experience  went,  was  that  of  reflecting,  in  what  appeared 
water,  objects  above  our  horizon.  Our  Ababdi  guide 
knew  it  as  the  Bir  Ambagi.      We  had  been  only  a  few 

242 


BIR    HAGI    SULIMAN 

days  in  the  desert  ;  but  we  felt  some  of  the  excitement 
of  pilgrims  in  the  wilderness  who,  after  a  prolonged 
journey,  catch  their  first  glimpse  of  a  land  of  Canaan. 
Our  oasis  turned  out  to  be  nothing  more  than  a  mass 
of  rushes  surrounding  some  pools  of  water  ;  it  was, 
however,  a  refreshing  sight  to  our  eyes,  and  possibly 
more  refreshing  to  the  stomachs  of  our  camels — there 
was  not  much  left  of  Laura's  hump  when  I  had  last 
taken  observations. 

A  half-dozen  goats — sole  milk-supply  of  Kosseir,  as 
we  later  on  found  out — grazed  peacefully  here,  while 
the  young  goat-herds  stared  round-eyed  at  the  new- 
comers. 

The  air  we  breathed  was  different,  and  though  no 
air  is  purer  than  that  of  the  desert,  there  was  something 
singularly  exhilarating  in  that  which  was  here.  The 
sea,  which  we  could  not  yet  catch  a  glimpse  of,  had 
sent  its  breezes  to  welcome  us  to  its  shores. 

On  remounting  our  camels  we  followed  the  dry 
bed  of  a  river — a  wash-out, — and  after  descending  it  for 
a  few  miles,  we  turned  the  corner  of  some  low-lying 
sand-hills,  and  the  Red  Sea  was  before  us.  How 
intensely  blue  it  looked  !  I  had  not  at  that  time  gone 
down  the  Red  Sea,  or  I  might  have  been  prepared  for 
its  being  no  redder  than  a  blue  band-box.  It  is  just  as 
well  that  its  colour  was  no  other,  for  no  sight  could 
have  given  us  greater  pleasure.  We  kept  our  camels  at 
the  trot,  and  it  looked  as  if  we  should  be  there  in  half 
an  hour.  The  low  white  houses  of  Kosseir  were  on 
our  left  horizon,  with  some  huge  ugly  erection  over- 
topping  them.      In  a  couple  of  hours  we  cleared    the 

243 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

sandy    waste,    and    jumped    off    our    camels    on    the 
strand. 

One  of  our  party  threw  off  his  clothes  to  have  a 
swim,  in  spite  of  our  warning  him  that  the  water  might 
be  infested  with  sharks.  '  1 11  risk  it  anyhow,'  he  called 
out,  and  we  watched  him  splashing  about  with  mixed 
feelings  of  sour  grapes.  Weigall  sent  our  guide  with  a 
note  to  the  Mucii?'  to  tell  him  of  our  arrival,  and  Selim 
lighted  the  spirit  lamp  to  prepare  our  tea.  We  strolled 
some  way  along  the  beach,  when  we  came  on  the  body 
of  a  young  shark,  with  its  throat  cut,  lying  on  the  edge 
of  the  water,  and  our  looks  at  our  venturesome  com- 
panion silenced  his  boastings  of  how  he  had  enjoyed 
his  bathe. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

KOSSEIR 

WE  had  not  long  to  wait  before  the  Miidir^  or 
Governor  of  Kosseir,  arrived  to  welcome  us.  He 
was  a  stout,  good-natured,  middle-aged  Maltese  \ 
he  spoke  English  fluently,  but  with  the  accent  of  his 
countrymen.  His  pleasure  at  seeing  us  was  very  genuine, 
and  the  more  we  heard  him  tell  of  life  in  Kosseir,  the 
more  we  appreciated  what  an  event  in  his  dull  existence 
our  arrival  must  have  been.  Besides  his  wife  and  little 
daughter  there  was  not  a  European  in  the  place,  except 
an  Austrian  mechanic  who  attended  to  the  sea-water 
condenser.  A  Syrian  doctor  had  been  sent  here  to 
attend  to  the  sick,  and  as  no  one  ever  was  sick,  and  the 
Mudir  never  had  any  cases  to  try,  their  only  topic  of 
conversation  was  of  the  dulness  of  the  place.  There 
were  1500  souls  in  Kosseir  when  the  Mudir  was  first 
appointed,  and  now  there  are  barely  300.  They  lived 
on  the  fish  they  caught  and  some  bags  of  flour  which  a 
coasting  steamer  left  here  at  long  intervals.  The  arrival 
of  the  steamer  was  the  one  event  which  awakened  the 
inhabitants,  who,  during  the  intervals,  spent  most  of 
their  time  in  sleep. 

I    asked    what    the    large    building    was    which    wc 
noticed  when  first  we  caught  sight  of  the  place,  and  I 

245 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

was  told  that  it  was  a  condenser  which  the  government 
had  erected  so  as  to  save  the  people  having  to  go  four 
miles  to  the  nearest  well  to  fetch  the  brackish  water  it 
supplied.  The  Mudir  would  show  us  over  it  the  follow- 
ing morning,  as  well  as  the  other  objects  of  interest 
in  the  town.  We  were  told  we  could  not  get  some 
necessaries  we  thought  we  might  be  able  to  procure 
for  our  return  journey.  '  There  is  nothing  here,  no- 
thing, nothing,'  and  which  he  pronounced  '  Nozing, 
nozing,  nozing,'  while  the  tears  almost  started  from  the 
poor  man's  eyes. 

It  appeared  that  when  he  was  hrst  sent  here  the 
people  were  often  reduced  to  eating  chopped  straw  with 
their  fish.  The  little  trade,  which  had  hitherto  kept 
the  place  going,  disappeared  when  Suakin  and  Suez 
became  the  only  places  of  call  on  that  coast.  The 
great  condenser  had  supplied  the  ships  with  water,  and 
a  trade  in  fish  gave  the  men  an  occupation  and  brought 
a  little  money  into  the  place.  The  Mudir  sent  a  report 
to  the  government  on  the  starving  condition  of  the 
inhabitants,  and  a  grant  was  voted  to  transplant  the 
population  to  more  prosperous  districts.  Three-quarters 
of  the  people  left  when  the  means  were  given  them  to 
do  so,  and  as  none  but  the  aged  remained,  it  was  hoped 
that  Kosseir  would  soon  cease  as  an  inhabited  town. 
So  great,  however,  is  the  native's  attachment  to  his 
locality,  that  a  certain  number  returned,  after  a  while, 
to  the  semi-starvation  of  their  natal  place. 

We  asked  if  the  people  were  honest  and  well-behaved. 
*  Dere  is  nozing  to  steal,  and  when  they  are  not  fishing 
dey  sleep,'  was  our  answer.     The  doctor  had  as  little  to 

246 


KOSSEIR 

do  as  the  Mudir  in  his  capacity  as  magistrate,  for,  in 
spite  of  the  poor  living,  old  age  was  the  only  physical 
complaint  from  which  any  one  suffered. 

On  this  barren  coast,  where  no  blade  of  grass  can 
grow,  the  germs  of  disease  do  not  easily  spread,  and  the 
filth  from  the  habitations  is  soon  sterilised  in  the  perpetual 
sunshine.  To  rust  out  takes  longer  than  to  wear  out  in 
such  a  climate,  and  this  must  account  for  the  great  age 
which  most  of  the  inhabitants  attain. 

-  Our  baggage  had  arrived  during  these  tales  of  woe, 
and  we  tried  to  induce  the  governor  to  share  our  dinner. 
He  would  not  stay,  but  promised  to  have  tea  with  us 
the  next  day,  and  to  bring  his  daughter,  the  Austrian 
mechanic,  and  the  Syrian  doctor.  He  had  hardly  taken 
his  departure  when  some  men  arrived  bringing  half  a 
dozen  chairs  and  a  present  of  fish,  with  a  message  that 
if  there  was  anything  Kosseir  could  supply,  it  was  at  our 
orders.  I  think  the  kind-hearted  Mudir  left  to  spare  us 
our  expressions  of  gratitude. 

To  lie  on  the  soft  sand  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
gentle  plashing  of  the  incoming  waves,  and  to  watch 
the  full  moon  slowly  emerging  above  the  sharp-cut  line  of 
the  blue  waters,  consoled  us  that  Kosseir  could  at  least 
supply  a  half-hour  of  as  exquisite  enjoyment  as  any 
wealth  could  command  in  the  most  prosperous  of  cities. 
The  fizzling  sounds  which  proceeded  from  Selim's 
cooking-tent  did  not  jar  in  the  least,  for  the  anticipation 
of  some  fresh  fish,  after  a  regime  of  tinned  meats,  was 
far  from  disagreeable.  After  a  course  of  crayfish  and  of 
a  well-served  belbul^  we  told  Selim  that  he  could  give  his 
tin-opener  a  thorough  rest. 

247 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

We  returned  to  our  soft  couches  in  the  sand,  and 
lay  there  till  the  moon  was  high  in  the  heavens,  when 
we  turned  in  for  the  night. 

The  Mudir  was  awaiting  us  when  we  arrived  at  his 
office  at  eight  o'clock  on  the  following  morning.  It 
was  in  a  large  building,  for  our  host's  duties  were  various : 
he  was  consul  to  many  nations,  of  whom  a  subject  might 
be  here  cast  ashore  ;  he  was  also  postmaster-general,  in 
case  a  letter  ever  arrived  ;  head  of  the  customs — on 
what  dutiable  articles  was  not  related.  As  captain  of 
the  coastguards  a  chance  of  some  work  might  occur, 
for  were  this  coast  not  guarded,  hasheesh  would  be  sure 
to  find  an  inlet  and  poison  some  of  the  people  in  the 
Nile  valley.  He  was  here  also  to  enforce  the  orders 
given  by  the  sanitary  inspectors  in  regard  to  pilgrims 
returning  from  Mecca  through  this  port.  In  spite  of 
these  and  other  duties,  Mr.  Wirth  (as  we  discovered  his 
name  to  be)  had  plenty  of  time  to  place  at  our  disposal, 
and  when  we  had  sipped  the  usual  cup  of  coffee  we 
started  to  see  Kosseir  under  his  guidance. 

The  huge  and  unsightly  building  which  housed  the 
condensing  machinery  was,  as  might  be  expected,  the 
pkce  de  resistajice,  and  with  pride  we  were  shown  the  one 
thing  left  in  which  some  lingering  signs  of  vitality 
remained.  The  government  had  spent  .;^  14,000  to  put 
this  thing  up.  It  was  large  enough  to  supply  water  to 
10,000  souls,  and  now  by  working  it  during  two 
mornings  per  month  it  more  than  supplied  the  present 
population.  A  paternal  government  had  decreed  that 
a  charge  of  one  millieme,  that  is  a  farthing,  should  be 
made  for  each  pailful  supplied  ;   but  as  many  had  not 

248 


KOSSEIR 

the  farthing,  it  was  a  case  of  '  thank  you  for  nothing.' 
The  governor  informed  us  that  many  women  filled  their 
pitchers  at  the  brackish  well,  four  miles  off,  from  want 
of  this  money  to  pay  for  the  distilled  water  :  a  case 
of  farthing  wise  and  pound  foolish  on  the  part  of  the 
government. 

1  was  glad  when  we  got  out  of  the  place  and  proceeded 
to  inspect  the  chief  mosque.  When  we  had  awakened 
the  caretaker,  he  started  removing  the  matting,  so  as  not 
to  oblige  us  to  take  off  our  shoes.  Mr.  Wirth  wittily 
remarked  that  the  ground  would  be  less  likely  to  dirty 
our  shoes  than  would  the  mats  if  we  stepped  on  them. 
We  prevented  the  man  from  moving  one  of  them,  so 
as  not  to  disturb  the  sleep  of  one  or  two  worshippers 
who  lay  there.  It  was  a  picturesque  old  mosque,  and 
Mr.  Whymper  and  I  decided  to  return  and  make  a 
drawing  of  it  when  we  had  seen  what  else  Kosseir  had 
to  show. 

The  fort  stands  close  by,  and  we  were  taken  to  see 
the  place  where  Desaix  had  quartered  some  troops,  and 
where  these  French  soldiers  pined,  during  two  years, 
for  their  native  country,  until  they  were  hurriedly 
dislodged  by  the  Anglo-British  force  under  Baird.  Our 
Maltese  friend,  being  a  British  subject,  pointed  out 
with  pride  the  gate  through  which  the  English  and 
Indian  soldiers  effected  an  entrance,  and  at  the  back  of 
the  fort  he  showed  us  from  whence  the  poor  Frenchmen 
escaped  to  try  and  reach  the  Nile  across  tiie  desert. 
How  many  succeeded,  history  does  not  relate.  Knowing 
what  preparations  have  to  be  made  to  make  a  desert 
journey,   it  is  awful    to   contemplate   the    fate    of  these 

2  I  249 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

soldiers  with  only  the  food  they  could  hurriedly  grab 
up,  and  the  wells  guarded  by  the  enemy.  We  are  told 
that  the  British  troops  reached  Keneh,  and  that  the 
French  had  by  that  time  evacuated  Egypt.  General 
Desaix  had  joined  Napoleon's  army  more  than  a  year 
before,  and  fell  in  the  battle  of  Marengo  on  the  14th 
of  June  1800. 

His  brilliant  career  was  cut  short  while  only  in  his 
thirty-second  year,  his  greatest  achievement  being  the 
conquest  of  Upper  Egypt,  where  he  became  known  by 
the  natives  as  the  Just  Sultan. 

The  custodian  of  the  fort  told  us  how  the  British 
fired  water  from  their  ships  on  to  the  ammunition  of 
the  French,  and  the  latter,  then  being  unable  to  return 
the  fire,  tried  to  reach  Keneh  as  best  they  could. 
Strange  things  are  often  related  by  Arab  custodians  ! 

The  main  street  of  Kosseir  is  picturesque,  with  the 
minaret  towering  above  the  deserted  shops,  or  rather  it 
might  have  been,  had  the  coloured  stuffs  and  fruits  and 
a  busy  throng  been  there  to  furnish  it  with  the  usual 
properties  which  make  up  an  oriental  street  picture. 
The  two  stalls  which  had  something  to  sell  had  no 
other  customers  than  a  swarm  of  flies,  and  we  should 
hardly  have  had  the  heart  to  wake  the  shopman  from 
his  profound  sleep  had  there  been  anything  worth 
buying.  The  Mudir  had  had  the  little  quay  repaired, 
as  well  as  the  wooden  pier  which  formed  the  break- 
water to  a  small  harbour.  He  had  also  fenced  in  a 
space  of  about  a  hundred  yards  square  in  the  sea,  so  as 
to  allow  any  one  who  wished  to  bathe  to  be  able  to  do 
so  in  safety  from  the  sharks.      We  mentioned  that  one 

250 


KOSSEIR 

of  our  party  had  bathed  near  our  camp,  and  he  was 
horrified,  for  the  sea,  he  told  us,  was  aHve  with  sharks. 
'  Had  we  not  noticed  a  shark  lying  on  the  strand  with 
its  throat  cut  ? '  We  mentioned  that  we  had,  though 
not  till  after  our  friend's  bath.  We  were  then  told 
that  a  youth  was  standing  there  with  his  feet  just  in  the 
sea  when  a  shark  made  a  dash  at  him,  and,  missing  his 
prey,  landed  too  high  on  the  beach  to  be  able  to  get 
back  into  the  water  before  the  youth  cut  its  throat. 
This  had  only  happened  a  couple  of  days  before  our 
arrival  at  the  coast. 

Two  high-sterned  dhows  were  beached  near  here 
for  repairs  ;  they  added  considerably  to  the  characteristics 
of  the  place,  which  had  something  un-Egyptian  about 
them.  Kosseir  is  a  Red  Sea  port,  and  it  bears  some- 
thing, hard  to  dehne,  but  which  is  not  to  be  observed 
till  on  this  side  of  Suez.  The  people  dressed  as 
Egyptians  ;  but  on  studying  their  features  more  care- 
fully, one  could  discern  that  nothing  of  the  old  Egyptian 
stock  was  here.  Their  blood  is  Arabian  intermixed 
with  that  of  the  Ababdi  tribe.  We  were  neither 
pestered  with  beggars  nor  importuned  by  the  officious- 
ness  met  with  in  the  Nile  resorts. 

I  returned  to  the  mosque  to  start  my  drawing,  and 
remained  there  until  it  was  time  to  join  our  tea-party 
at  the  camp.  Two  or  three  men  dropped  in  during 
the  midday  prayer,  but  the  caretaker  beckoned  to  me 
not  to  move  my  easel.  Some  boys  arrived  later  on 
and  sat  around  an  old  sheykh  who  expounded  the 
Koran  to  them. 

A  date  stone  of  two  hundred  years  ago,  probably  only 

251 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

alluded  to  a  restoration.  I  should  place  the  original 
construction  some  hve  centuries  earlier,  though  in  an 
out-of-the-world  place  such  as  this  architectural  style 
changes  very  slowly. 

I  arrived  at  the  camp  in  time  for  our  tea-party. 
The  governor  regretted  that  Mrs.  Wirth  was  not  well 
enough  to  accompany  him  ;  his  daughter  was  a  pretty 
girl  of  about  thirteen  years  of  age.  The  poor  child 
seemed  very  conscious  of  having  outgrown  her  frock, 
judging  from  the  way  she  kept  smoothing  it  down  over 
her  knees.  She  had  plenty  to  say  for  herself,  and 
could  say  it  in  four  different  languages.  Her  father 
regretted  that  no  means  of  educating  the  child  existed 
except  such  instruction  as  her  mother  could  give  her, 
and  that  there  was  not  another  child  in  Kosseir  for 
her  to  associate  with.  '  If  I  could  only  get  her  to 
Alexandria  and  get  there  myself  also,'  he  said  with  a 
sigh.  '  It  is  four  years  since  we  had  an  opportunity  of 
getting  her  some  frocks.'  The  poor  girl  coloured  up 
and  seemed  more  conscious  of  her  legs  than  ever,  and 
had  the  last  pleat  of  her  skirt  not  been  newly  let  out 
to  its  full  limits,  we  should  probably  not  have  seen  her 
at  our  party. 

The  Austrian  mechanic  was  pleased  to  find  some 
one  who  could  speak  German  ;  but  he,  poor  man, 
seemed  conscious  of  being  without  a  collar  to  his  shirt. 
It  was  difficult  to  put  him  at  his  ease  till  he  got  well 
launched  into  the  subject  of  what  a  dismal  hole  Kosseir 
was  to  live  in.  The  Syrian  doctor  seemed  disappointed 
at  not  seeing  a  possible  patient  amongst  us  ;  we  all 
looked  in  disgustingly  rude  health.      We  promised  to 

252 


KOSSEIR 

look  in  at  his  dispensary  the  next  day,  where  he  assured  us 
he  had  the  means  of  coping  with  every  ailment  ;  but 
as  the  whole  population  was  always  in  the  best  of  health, 
time  hung  heavily  on  his  hands. 

He  amused  himself  by  fishing  occasionally,  and  told 
us  of  the  extraordinary  number  of  crayfish  which  were 
to  be  got  by  the  simple  process  of  getting  on  to  the 
coral  reefs  at  night  and  holding  a  candle  over  the  pools. 
The  stupid  creatures  then  come  to  have  a  look  at  the 
light,  and  you  have  only  then  to  pick  them  out  of  the 
water  and  put  them  in  the  basket.  Should  we  care  to 
have  a  try,  he  would  be  delighted  to  take  us  to  the  best 
place  that  very  night.  The  moon  was  the  difficulty, 
for  a  dark  night  was  necessary.  It  was  settled  that  he 
should  bring  some  men  and  lanterns  at  midnight,  when 
he  reckoned  that  the  moon  would  have  disappeared. 

We  turned  in  after  our  dinner,  so  as  to  get  what 
sleep  we  could  before  starting  on  our  fishing  expedition. 
When  the  doctor  summoned  us  that  night,  the  moon 
was  so  high  in  the  sky  that  we  were  loath  to  turn  out. 
Bed  was  so  comfortable;  while  pottering  about  on  a 
sunken  reef,  with  the  moon  to  spoil  our  sport,  seemed 
hardly  good  enough.  The  doctor  hoped  that  the  moon 
would  be  down  before  we  reached  the  coral  reefs,  and  for 
the  first  time  we  realised  that  the  reefs  were  three  miles 
away.  It  seemed,  however,  ungracious  not  to  go,  so  off 
we  started. 

The  doctor  was  rather  depressed  when  he  heard 
moonlight  effects  being  discussed,  though  we  were 
thinking  more  of  its  pictorial  aspects  than  of  its  in- 
fluence on  crayfish.      Early  recollections  of  coral  islands, 

253 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

in  a  book  which  made  my  tenth  birthday  memorable, 
excited  my  curiosity  to  see  at  last  what  a  coral  reef  was 
like.  Grottos  as  pink  as  a  necklace,  of  a  ten-year- 
old  little  girl  I  associated  with  my  book,  rose  in  my 
imagination,  and  to  see  these  in  a  brilliant  moonlight 
might  more  than  compensate  me  for  a  poor  catch  of 
crayfish. 

We  found  several  fishermen  on  the  reefs,  and  we 
were  puzzled  to  guess  what  they  were  up  to.  They 
appeared  to  be  walking  on  the  water,  for  when  we  first 
saw  them  they  were  some  distance  out  at  sea,  and  the 
water  looked  no  shallower  than  that  which  we  had 
hitherto  skirted.  Some  were  running  about  and  beating 
the  surface  with  long  sticks,  and  the  proceedings  had  an 
uncanny  look  until  we  got  near  enough  to  follow  what 
they  were  about.  A  long  net,  which  a  couple  of  men 
hung  on  to  at  the  water's  edge,  reached  some  distance 
into  the  sea,  making  a  slight  curve  to  its  furthest 
extremity,  which  was  held  by  some  men  far  out  on  the 
partially  submerged  reef;  the  water  was  being  beaten 
with  the  object  of  driving  the  fish  into  the  net.  The 
men  furthest  out  presently  advanced  towards  the  shore, 
dragging  the  net  through  the  deep  water  while  they 
walked  along  the  edge  of  the  reef.  We  were  able  to 
reach  them  by  seldom  being  more  than  ankle  deep, 
taking  care,  however,  to  avoid  the  deep  holes  in  the 
coral.  As  the  net  curved  more  and  more  on  the 
advance  to  the  shore  of  its  further  end,  our  interest  to 
see  what  it  would  bring  in  became  as  great  as  that  of 
the  fishermen. 

When  finally  the  whole  net  was  drawn  on  to  the 

254 


KOSSEIR 

strand,  we  beheld  as  strange  an  assortment  of  creatures 
as  can  be  seen  in  the  Naples  Aquarium.  Some  had 
transparent  bodies  with  long  hlmy  tentacles,  others  were 
difficult  to  class,  whether  as  fish  or  as  marine  plants, 
for  they  were  so  rapidly  picked  up  and  thrown  into 
baskets  that  we  had  little  time  to  examine  them.  The 
queer  things  left:  on  the  shore  might  safely  be  classed  as 
unedible.  The  men  telling  us  that  the  moon  would 
not  be  down  till  three  o'clock,  I  bothered  no  more 
about  crayfish,  but  found  plenty  of  entertainment  in 
peering  into  the  holes  in  the  reef  The  water  was  so 
transparent  that,  where  the  moonlight  reached  the 
bottom,  the  shadow  of  my  head  was  clearly  defined.  I 
might  have  been  looking  into  a  depth  of  one  or  two 
feet  instead  of  into  several  fathoms  of  water.  Some  of 
the  beautifully  arranged  tanks  in  the  Aquarium  at 
Naples  might  have  been  modelled  on  what  I  saw  here. 
The  holes  were  sometimes  globular  in  shape,  though 
passages  might  have  existed  where  the  moonbeams  did 
not  fall.  Two  lights,  an  inch  or  two  apart,  moved 
about  in  the  shadow  of  one  of  these  holes,  and  dis- 
appeared whenever  they  reached  the  moonlit  part.  I 
crept  down  on  my  knees  to  see  if  I  could  distinguish 
any  form  around  these  weird  lights,  and  as  I  could 
not  do  so,  I  concluded  that  they  were  the  eyes  of 
a  transparent  fish  such  as  those  we  had  seen  taken 
out  of  the  fishermen's  nets.  The  lights  disappearing,  I 
crept  round  to  a  hole  a  few  yards  ofi^,  and  there  I  could 
distinguish  the  entrance  to  a  passage  leading  towards 
the  hole  I  had  left.  The  two  lights  reappeared,  were 
lost  again  as  they  passed  through  the  moonlit  space,  and 

255 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

seen  once  more  until  they  were  lost  in  some  cavern  in 
the  darkness. 

Sea-anemones  stuck  to  the  sides  and  hung  from 
the  roofs  of  these  fairylike  chambers,  the  claws  of  a 
hermit  crab  just  distinguishable  in  a  hollow  at  the  base 
of  what  looked  more  like  some  hot-house  plant  than 
of  a  conscious  creature.  On  touching  the  spreading 
tentacles  with  my  stick,  they  rapidly  contracted  to  a 
conical  knob. 

The  reefs  in  themselves  were  a  disappointment,  for 
I  should  hardly  have  known  them  as  coral  had  I  not 
been  told  so ;  but  what  we  saw  of  the  marvellous  forms 
of  life  contained  in  their  caverns  well  repaid  us  for  our 
night's  excursion.  Some  attempts  were  made  to  beguile 
the  crayfish  with  lighted  candles  ;  three  were  brought 
back  to  our  camp,  but  I  never  quite  got  rid  of  a 
suspicion  that  the  Syrian  doctor  had  caught  these  out  of 
the  fishermen's  net  by  means  of  a  piastre.  He  need 
not  have  looked  so  sad  about  his  miscalculations,  for 
each  one  of  us  had  spent  a  most  interesting  hour  or 
more  on  the  reefs.  It  became  too  cold  for  us  to  remain 
any  longer  in  our  wet  clothes,  and  we  were  glad  to 
tramp  briskly  back  to  our  camp. 

Weigall  and  Erskine  Nicol  rode  on  the  following 
morning  to  the  ruins  of  Old  Kosseir,  some  five  miles 
north  of  the  Arab  town,  while  Whymper  and  I  returned 
to  the  mosque  to  finish  our  drawings.  We  paid  the 
doctor  a  visit  in  his  dispensary,  and  were  shown  how 
up-to-date  was  its  equipment.  '  But  what  is  the  use  of 
all  this,'  he  said,  '  if  no  one  is  ever  ill  ? ' — one  more 
proof  of  the  ingratitude  of  the  native. 

256 


KOSSEIR 

We  bid  farewell  to  the  kindly  governor,  and  hoped 
for  his  sake  that  he  might  soon  be  transferred  to  some 
more  congenial  place,  trusting  that  one  who  had  the 
welfare  of  the  people  at  heart  as  much  as  he  had  might 
be  found  to  fill  his  post.  May  his  charming  little 
daughter  be  where  suitable  companions  abound,  and  also 
frocks  long  enough  to  reach  to  her  ankles.  The  doctor 
may  now  be  surrounded  with  patients  more  than  enough, 
for  the  two  years'  exile  he  then  anticipated  are  now  over. 
Let  us  hope  that  the  Austrian  engineer  has  been  replaced 
by  one  whose  orders  may  allow  him  to  distribute  the 
distilled  water  without  having  to  exact  the  farthing  per 
bucket  from  the  impoverished  people  of  Kosseir. 

We  bought  some  pretty  shells — about  the  only  things 
the  town  had  to  sell.  The  good  Mudir  spoke  the  truth 
when  he  said,  '  In  Kosseir  dere  is  nozing,  nozing, 
nozing  ! ' 

Some  fish  was  sent  to  us  as  a  departing  present  when 
we  were  starting  on  our  return  journey  to  the  Nile 
valley.  The  whitewashed  town  was  pink  in  the  light 
from  the  rising  sun  when  we  again  mounted  our  camels. 
Kosseir  was  asleep,  and  Kosseir  has  probably  slept  ever 
since,  just  waking  up  for  a  short  while  when  the  coasting 
steamer  brings  the  bags  of  flour. 


2  K 


CHAPTER    XXII 

EDFU   AND   THE   QUARRIES   OF    GEBEL   SILSILEH 

THE  few  incidents  which  occurred  during  the 
following  six  months,  after  I  was  reinstalled  in 
my  hut  at  Der  el-Bahri,  have  been  related  in 
previous  chapters.  During  the  short  season  at  Luxor 
friends  and  acquaintances  often  paid  me  a  visit  when 
going  the  rounds  on  the  Theban  side  of  the  Nile.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Herbert  Parker  induced  me  to  leave  my  camp 
to  spend  Christmastide  with  them  in  the  delightful  house 
they  had  lately  built  at  Assuan.  It  is  one  of  the  few 
new  houses  in  Upper  Egypt  which  in  aspect  fits  in 
exactly  with  its  surroundings.  Situated  as  it  is  on  the 
western  bank  of  the  Nile,  it  commands  a  beautiful  view 
both  up  and  down  the  river,  and  Elephantine  Island, 
the  only  green  spot  near  Assuan,  lies  just  opposite.  A 
more  ideal  residence  in  which  to  pass  the  winter  months 
would  be  hard  to  conceive.  Would  that  he  who  built 
it  had  been  spared  to  enjoy  it  for  more  than  a  few  short 
seasons  !  Two  years  previously  I  had  spent  three  months 
with  them  on  their  dahabieh.  Henry  Simpson,  the 
artist,  was  of  our  company.  We  visited  everything 
worth  visiting  between  the  first  and  second  cataracts, 
mooring  the  ship  wherever  we  found  a  subject  we 
wished  to  paint.      This  is  the  ideal  way  of  seeing  the 

258 


EDFU 

Nile,  and  when,  as  in  this  case,  congenial  companionship 
is  added  to  the  comforts  of  a  well-equipped  dahabieh, 
no  more  delightful  way  of  tiding  over  the  winter  months 
is  imaginable. 

A  diary  in  the  form  of  caricatures  of  the  daily  events, 
which  Mr.  Simpson  had  left  with  the  Parkers,  brought 
those  pleasant  times  vividly  back  to  us. 

Mrs.  Parker  and  I  made  several  excursions  to  Philae 
while  there  was  still  a  chance  of  recording  some  of  its 
beauty  before  it  would  be  entirely  submerged  by  the  rais- 
ing of  the  Assuan  dam.  As  it  is  proposed  that  I  should 
treat  of  Nubia  in  another  volume,  I  shall  defer  what  I  may 
have  to  say  on  Assuan  and  of  the  country  south  of  it. 

Towards  the  end  of  my  season  at  Der  el-Bahri,  which 
as  usual  was  two  months  after  the  hotels  at  Luxor  had 
put  up  the  shutters,  Mr.  Weigall  suggested  my  spending 
June  with  him  in  the  tombs  and  temples  south  of 
Thebes.  The  valley  in  which  I  camped  had  become  a 
veritable  oven,  and  my  hut  was  untenable  till  the  sun 
sank  behind  the  cliffs  which  form  the  amphitheatre 
behind  Hatshepsu's  shrine.  Some  work  I  wished  to  do 
in  the  temple  of  Edfu,  as  well  as  to  get  shelter  from  the 
burning  sun,  tempted  me  to  accept  this  kind  invitation. 
The  quarries  and  shrines  at  Gebel  Silsileh,  the  tombs  of 
Assuan  and  the  courts  and  colonnades  at  Philae,  all  held 
out  hopes  of  shady  places  in  which  I  should  hnd  plenty 
of  subjects  to  paint. 

Our  preparations  were  soon  made.  On  the  hrst  day 
of  June  we  took  the  train  from  Luxor  to  Edtu,  and 
were  encamped  that  afternoon  in  the  dark  shades  of  the 
great  temple  of  Horus. 

259 


AN    ARTIST    IN     EGYPT 

The  thermometer  fell  to  loo^  Fahrenheit  in  the 
hypostyle  hall,  and  we  were  grateful  for  this  comparative 
coolness.  Our  attire  could  safely  be  of  the  scantiest, 
as  there  was  no  fear  of  a  party  of  trippers  arriving 
at  this  time  of  the  year.  Shoes  were  advisable  till  the 
pavements  had  been  examined,  for  in  some  seasons  the 
temple  is  infested  with  scorpions.  Happily  this  was  a 
poor  scorpion  season,  and  barely  a  dozen  were  killed 
during  the  eight  days  we  spent  there. 

We  decided  on  the  hypostyle  hall  as  our  dining-room, 
unless  the  open  court  should  cool  down  sufficiently  after 
sundown  ;  our  beds  were  to  be  made  on  the  roof  of  the 
great  vestibule,  and  no  cooler  spot  could  be  apportioned 
for  our  midday  siesta  than  in  one  of  the  corridors 
which  run  round  the  sanctuary.  What  earthly  potentate 
could  claim  so  majestic  a  dwelling-place  ?  If  an  apology 
for  its  modernity  be  needed  to  those  whose  interests  lie 
in  the  earlier  dynastic  remains,  we  at  all  events  had  a 
roof  over  our  heads,  and  Edfu  temple,  though  shorn  of 
its  furniture,  is  not  a  ruin.  Going  back  to  pre-Ptolemaic 
times,  no  temple  in  Egypt  exists  where  imagination  has 
not  to  fill  in  great  portions  which  are  not  in  the  places 
which  the  builders  designed  for  them.  Edfu  temple  is 
doubtless  the  grandest  preserved  edifice  in  the  world 
which  can  date  back  rather  more  than  two  thousand  years. 

Some  portions  are  out  of  repair  ;  but  let  us  hope 
that  no  more  attempts  at  restoration  may  be  made,  more 
than  to  tie  or  buttress  such  places  that  may  be  in 
danger  of  falling.  All  credit  is  due  to  Mariette,  who, 
under  the  auspices  of  Said  Pasha,  cleared  the  temple  of 
the    rubbish    which   in    places    filled    it   to   the    roofing 

260 


EDFU 

slabs  ;  a  part  of  the  town  actually  stood  on  the  roof. 
The  rubbish  hills  which  surround  it  are  gradually 
lessening,  for  the  septic  material  of  which  they  are 
composed  serves  as  a  valuable  manure  to  the  fields 
around. 

The  entire  building  took  187  years  to  complete, 
its  progress  going  on  more  or  less  uninterruptedly 
during  the  rule  of  eleven  of  the  Ptolemies.  The 
design  is  so  complete  that  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  one 
architect  did  not  draw  up  all  the  plans.  I  do  not 
purpose  to  give  the  details  of  this  vast  building,  as  this 
has  been  so  adequately  done  by  Baedeker  and  in  other 
guide-books.  Curiously  enough  the  Baedeker,  which 
so  accurately  describes  the  most  interesting  details  to 
be  observed,  makes  no  mention  of  the  dimensions, 
though  the  first  thing  which  impresses  the  visitor  is  the 
vastness  of  the  building.  Actual  measurements  are 
liable  to  do  little  more  than  give  an  impression  of  size, 
but  a  comparison  with  well-known  structures  often 
conveys  a  truer  conception.  The  area  of  St.  Paul's,  in 
square  feet  measurement,  is  28,050,  that  of  St.  Peter's 
at  Rome  is  54,000,  while  the  temple  at  Edfu  covers 
an  area  of  80,000  square  feet.  There  is  but  one  other 
temple  in  Egypt  with  which  we  can  compare  it,  and 
that  is  the  temple  of  Denderah.  But  in  every  way  it  is 
Denderah's  superior.  The  great  temple  of  Ammon  at 
Karnak  was  raised  when  Egyptian  art  was  at  a  higher 
level  than  at  the  time  of  the  Ptolemies,  and,  grand  as 
that  ruin  may  be,  it  fails  to  impress  one  as  much  as  the 
almost  intact  structure  here  at  Edfu. 

The  temples  of  Edfu,  of  Denderah,  and  of  Esneh, 

261 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

though  all  three  were  raised  during  a  debased  period 
of  Egyptian  art,  owe  their  impressiveness  chiefly  to  the 
fiict  that  they  still  have  a  roof  above  them.  The 
subdued  light  of  the  vestibule,  the  dimmer  light  of  the 
hypostyle  hall,  and  the  increasing  darkness  as  one 
passes  through  the  next  two  chambers  till  the  blackness 
of  the  sanctuary  is  reached,  strikes  the  imagination 
to  a  degree  which  no  sunlit  ruins  can  do,  be  they  ever 
so  fine.  The  reliefs  which  cover  every  wall  space  and 
column  are  not  to  be  compared  with  the  refined  work  in 
Hatshepsu's  shrine  ;  but  in  this  dim  religious  light  they 
serve  their  purpose,  and  the  general  effect  is  in  no  wise 
diminished.  The  sculptured  reliefs,  on  the  girdle-wall 
and  the  pylons,  which  are  seen  in  broad  daylight, 
suffer  greatly  in  comparison  with  the  eighteenth  dynasty 
work.  But  taken  as  a  whole,  the  design  of  these 
temples  is  probably  more  beautiful  than  was  that  of  the 
earlier  structures,  of  which  only  fragments  now  remain. 
A  Greek  most  likely  furnished  the  design,  the  detail 
being  left  to  Egyptians  who  had  lost  much  of  their 
artistry. 

We  ascended  to  the  roof  by  a  long  inclined  plane 
in  the  thickness  of  one  of  the  walls,  and  in  the  com- 
parative coolness  of  the  evening  we  watched  the  sun 
dip  into  the  coloured  mists  which  hung  over  the 
cultivation  between  us  and  the  Libyan  desert.  Edfu 
spreads  round  three  sides  of  the  temple,  and  we  got  a 
bird's-eye  view  of  the  medley  of  mud  huts,  little  court- 
yards, and  modest  places  of  worship  which  go  to  make 
up  a  small  Nilotic  town.  Children  were  at  play  amidst 
the  cattle  and  fowls  in  the  yards,  while  their  elders  were 

262 


EDFU 

attending  to  their  household  duties  on  the  roof.  The 
houses  were  on  a  higher  level  as  they  neared  the  temple,  and 
the  piles  of  debris  on  which  they  stood  were  sharply  cut 
away  a  few  yards  from  the  girdle-wall,  forming  a  second 
enclosure  on  that  side  of  us.  It  was  easily  seen  that 
before  the  temple  was  cleared  the  incline  of  the  rubbish 
mounds  would  have  reached  to  the  roof  we  stood  on. 

In  a  letter  which  Mariette  wrote  in  i860  to  the 
Rdviie  Archdologiqitc^  he  says  :  '  I  caused  to  be  de- 
molished the  sixty-four  houses  which  encumbered  the 
roof,  as  well  as  twenty-eight  more  which  approached 
too  near  the  outer  wall  of  the  temple.  When  the 
whole  shall  be  isolated  from  its  present  surroundings  by 
a  massive  wall,  the  work  of  Edfu  will  be  accomplished.' 

Something  similar  to  what  Mariette  found  here 
fifty  years  ago  may  still  be  seen  at  the  north  end  of  the 
Luxor  temple,  where  a  mosque  and  a  cluster  of  houses 
still  remain  on  the  top,  on  the  yet  unexcavated  portions. 
The  apertures  in  the  roofing  slabs  (which  now  at  mid- 
day allow  of  some  rays  of  sunlight  to  lighten  the 
interior)  served  as  drains  to  carry  off  the  filth  from  the 
houses  on  the  roof  No  wonder  that  the  fellaheen 
gladly  now  fatten  their  land  with  the  scourings  from 
the  temple  enclosure.  Many  of  the  smaller  objects 
now  seen  in  the  Antika  shops  are  found  by  the  peasants 
while  they  load  their  asses  with  this  septic  rubbish. 
Sub-inspectors  and  guards  are  told  off  to  watch  these 
operations  ;  but  it  is  seldom  that  anything  which  is  not 
too  heavy  to  carry  off  can  be  saved  to  the  Antiquities 
Department. 

It    is    no    sinecure    being    Chief   Inspector    over   as 

263 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

extended  an  area  as  that  which  is  in  Mr.  Weigall's 
charge. 

By  the  Hght  of  a  couple  of  candles  we  dined  in 
the  courtyard.  The  afterglow  caught  the  top  of  the 
propylon  as  we  sat  down — from  a  deep  rose  it  sank  to 
a  slaty  grey,  and  then  slowly  darkened  to  a  black  mass 
against  the  starlit  sky. 

The  two  guardians  preceded  us  with  candles,  so 
that  we  could  find  our  way  to  the  stairway  entrance  at 
the  further  end  of  the  temple.  Thousands  of  bats 
squeaked  and  fluttered  above,  disturbed  by  these  un- 
wonted lights  ;  and  from  the  rounded  columns,  whose 
summits  were  lost  in  the  darkness,  beast  and  bird 
headed  gods  seemed  to  resent  our  intrusion  into  the 
sacred  precincts.  When  we  ascended  the  inclined 
stairway  we  rubbed  shoulders  with  the  divinities  and 
the  Ptolemies  which  lined  the  wall  surfaces  of  the 
narrow  passage  to  the  roof. 

Selim  had  fixed  up  our  camp  beds  above  the  great 
vestibule,  which  is  considerably  higher  than  the  inner 
precincts  of  the  temple  ;  and  here  we  slept  well  above 
the  gods,  but  beneath  the  canopy  of  the  heavens. 

We  arose  with  the  first  glimmer  of  light  in  the 
eastern  sky  and  found  Selim  preparing  our  bath  on  the 
roof  When  we  descended  to  the  interior  of  the 
temple  we  found  that  the  thermometer  had  only  fallen 
three  degrees.  The  courtyard  was  again  our  coolest 
breakfasting  place,  besides  being  more  or  less  free  from 
the  smell  of  bats,  which  is  a  distinctive  feature  of  all 
enclosed  temples. 

The  town  is  as  unspoilt  as  any  on  the  banks  of  the 

264 


POTTI".K\'   BAZAAR   IN   A  NILF.  VILLAGE 


•>? 


\4^ 


-i 


EDFU 

Nile,  and  the  early  morning  and  evening  are  the  only 
times  when  it  is  possible  to  explore  it  in  comfort  at 
this  time  of  the  year.  I  found  some  delightful  subjects 
in  the  little  bazaar,  and  could  paint  here  till  the  sun 
drove  me  from  where  I  had  set  up  my  easel.  The 
temple  interior,  even  at  a  hundred  degrees  of  Fahrenheit, 
then  became  a  welcome  shelter  from  the  burning  sun. 

My  companion  was  engaged  on  some  literary  work 
and  never  stirred  out  of  the  temple  till  dusk.  After 
lunch  we  would  retire  to  improvised  beds  near  the 
sanctuary,  and  a  ray  of  sunlight  descending  through  a 
slit  in  the  roof  gave  us  light  by  which  we  could  read 
till  we  fell  asleep. 

We  spent  eight  days  in  the  shades  of  this  majestic 
shrine,  and  though  Weigall  had  brought  quite  a  library 
of  books  on  things  Egyptological  and  was  also  able 
fluently  to  read  the  inscriptions  with  which  the  walls 
are  covered,  we  could  only  cull  a  fraction  of  the 
flowery  descriptions  of  the  deeds  that  were  done  while 
this  temple  of  Horus  was  being  raised.  I  made  a 
careful  study  of  a  fine  panel  on  the  inner  side  of  the 
western  girdle-wall.  It  represents  a  ship  with  expanded 
sail,  with  Isis  kneeling  at  the  prow  and  Horus  astride  on 
the  deck  launching  a  javelin  into  a  minute  hippopotamus 
near  the  edge  of  the  river  ;  both  he  and  the  goddess 
hold  a  cord  which  is  attached  to  the  beast.  The 
king  stands  on  the  bank  and  is  also  driving  a  spear 
into  the  victim.  The  figures  are  so  beautifully  drawn 
and  the  panel  is  so  decoratively  filled,  that  when 
we  speak  of  the  debased  art  of  the  Ptolemies,  it  must 
be   understood    as    being   so   only   in    comparison   with 

2  L  265 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

the    superlatively    hne    work    of   some    of    the    earlier 
dynasties. 

We  left  Edfu  in  the  early  morning  to  step  on  to  a 
steam-launch  which  would  run  us  up  to  Gebel  Silsileh 
in  six  hours.  I  seemed  awakened  from  a  sleep  gently 
disturbed  with  dreams  in  which  the  great,  of  an  age  long 
past,  and  their  strange  divinities  had  slowly  filed  before 
me,  to  be  lost  in  the  darkness  of  Edfu's  sanctuary. 

The  steam-launch  seemed  an  anachronism  after  the 
eight  days  during  which  we  had  been  transported  back 
to  times  before  the  dawn  of  Christianity.  Running 
against  the  current  our  progress  was  slow  ;  but  it 
was  a  giddy  speed  compared  with  that  of  the  Nile 
boats  we  overtook,  though  their  great  sails  were  swelled 
with  the  wind  blowing  up  the  river.  Lying  on  a 
mattress  in  the  shade  of  an  extemporised  awning  and 
enjoying  the  breeze  which  overtook  us,  we  could 
thoroughly  enjoy  some  hours  of  complete  laziness  which 
we  glorified  by  the  name  of  well-deserved  rest.  It 
seemed  a  pity  to  fall  asleep  and  to  lose  consciousness 
for  a  moment  of  this  delicious  feeling  of  fresh  air  and 
pleasant  coolness.  Objects  we  passed  were  just  of 
sufficient  interest  not  to  over-excite  us,  but  just  to 
prevent  any  feeling  of  monotony.  The  remains  of  a 
Byzantine  fortified  town  with  the  ruins  of  a  convent 
spread  picturesquely  over  the  crest  of  the  hill  es-Serag. 
I  should  like  to  have  made  a  sketch  of  this,  though  I 
soon  found  consolation  in  the  thought  that  I  might 
pass  here  again  and  catch  it  in  a  more  pictorial  lighting. 
Consolation  for  most  ills  comes  easily  while  afloat  on 
the  Nile. 

266 


THE   QUARRIES   OF   GEBEL    SILSILEH 

The  character  of  the  landscape  changes  considerably 
here.  The  nummulite  limestone  hills,  with  their  pretty 
crag  and  cliff  drawing,  give  place  to  the  sandstone 
rocks.  Ancient  quarries  with  inscriptions  abound,  and 
had  we  not  been  making  for  the  far-famed  quarries  of 
Silsileh,  we  might  have  felt  inclined  to  stop  and  examine 
some. 

We  reached  our  destination  in  the  early  afternoon, 
and  moored  on  the  west  bank  of  the  river.  Gebel  Silsileh 
(the  Mountain  of  the  Chain)  is  so  called  on  account  of 
a  tradition  that  ancient  kings  here  blocked  the  river 
with  a  chain  stretched  across  it  from  the  chffs  on  either 
side.  The  Nile  contracts  to  within  a  couple  of  hundred 
yards,  and  the  rocks  rise,  in  most  places,  sheer  out  of 
the  water.  That  a  more  natural  barrier  than  this  chain 
once  blocked  the  river  is  evident,  and  also  that  it  held 
up  the  waters  in  Lower  Nubia  sufficiently  to  force  a 
second  arm  of  the  river  to  flow  along  the  low-lying 
land  between  the  first  cataract,  and  on  the  western  side 
of  Assuan.  A  great  disruption  of  the  barrier  is  said  to 
have  taken  place  towards  the  end  of  the  Hyksos  period, 
when  until  then  it  was  probably  a  rushing  cataract. 
But  in  prehistoric  times,  when  the  course  of  the  Nile 
was  completely  blocked  at  this  gorge,  the  river  must 
have  flowed  through  other  channels  for  a  hundred  miles 
or  more. 

We  fixed  on  a  tomb  recess,  cut  out  of  a  rock  facing 
north,  as  our  living-room,  and  put  off  deciding  where 
we  should  sleep  till  we  found  which  place  might  be  the 
coolest  after  the  sun  had  gone  down.  Selim  improvised 
a  kitchen  in  a  disused  tomb  nearer  the  edge  of  the  river. 

267 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

These  arrangements  being  completed,  we  visited  the 
numerous  objects  of  interest  on  our  side  of  the  Nile. 

The  rock  chapel,  known  as  the  Speos  of  Haremheb, 
lies  furthest  north,  and  it  contains  some  very  beautiful 
late  eighteenth  dynasty  work.  A  relief  of  the  young  king 
taking  the  divine  milk  at  the  breast  of  a  goddess  can  be 
compared  in  beauty  with  the  similar  subject  in  the  Seti 
temple  at  Abydos.  The  workmanship  appearing  coarser 
here  is  owing  to  the  sandstone  not  having  the  marble- 
like surface  of  the  nummulite  limestone  in  the  latter 
temple.  The  relief  of  King  Haremheb  returning  in 
triumph  from  Cush  (generally  supposed  to  be  the  dis- 
trict between  the  first  two  cataracts,  which  we  now 
know  as  Nubia)  is  also  very  beautiful,  and  reminds  one 
strongly  of  some  of  the  Der  el-Bahri  work.  The  Speos 
itself  is  very  interesting,  being  a  form  of  shrine  of  a 
plan  different  to  any  I  had  so  far  seen.  It  is  a  long 
narrow  chamber  parallel  with  the  rock-face,  and  entered 
by  five  doorways  which  are  separated  from  each  other  by 
four  square  pillars  hewn  out  of  the  rock.  In  the  centre 
of  the  back  wall  is  an  entrance  to  an  inner  chamber  also 
covered  with  reliefs,  except  the  end  which  faces  the 
doorway  where  damaged  statues  of  the  Pharaoh  and 
of  six  gods  occupy  each  a  recess. 

For  the  best  part  of  half  a  mile  we  scrambled  over 
the  rocks  and  through  disused  quarries,  examining  a 
number  of  little  shrines,  tomb  recesses  and  stele^  all  of 
which  are  more  or  less  ornamented  with  reliefs  while 
some  show  traces  of  colour. 

Three  imposing  chapels  hewn  out  of  the  solid  rock 
are  at  the  south  end  of  the  quarries.      These  are  votive 

268 


THE    QUARRIES   OF   GEBEL    SILSILEH 

shrines  to  Seti  i.,  Rameses  ii.,  and  to  the  son  of  the 
latter,  Merenptah — proscenium-shaped  alcoves  sup- 
ported by  columns  of  the  clustered  papyrus  type,  and 
surmounted  with  bold  cornices.  A  rank  growth  of 
scrub  on  the  strip  of  land  between  the  shrines  and  the 
river  relieved  the  amber  hues  of  the  sandstone,  and  some 
touches  of  pure  colour  in  the  shrines  themselves  helped 
to  make  this  a  promising  subject  for  a  picture. 

Our  camp  was  about  midway  between  the  Speos 
and  these  votive  shrines.  Selim  was  preparing  our  dinner 
when  we  returned,  and  during  these  odd  moments  we 
enjoyed  a  swim  in  the  Nile.  As  usual  we  cut  our 
evenings  short  by  retiring  early  to  bed,  and  we  began 
our  days  with  the  first  glimmer  of  light. 

We  spent  four  delightful  days  here,  Weigall  collect- 
ing Egyptological  facts,  and  I  increasing  my  number  of 
drawings.  We  should  have  stayed  here  longer ;  but 
how  this  sojourn,  as  well  as  the  remainder  of  our 
expedition,  came  to  an  end,  will  form  the  subject  of 
another  chapter. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

MY  EXPERIENCES  AS  AN  INMATE  OF  A  NATIVE 

HOSPITAL 

I  HAD  placed  my  bed  on  a  rock,  high  enough 
to  get  the  beneht  of  any  breath  of  cooler  air 
which  the  north  breeze  might  bring  ;  the  nightly 
drop  in  the  temperature  usual  in  the  desert  does  not 
obtain  in  like  manner  on  the  edge  of  the  Nile.  Our 
exalted  position  on  the  roof  of  Edfu  temple  had  been 
conducive  to  sleep,  and  during  the  first  three  nights  I 
slept  well,  perched  up  on  my  rock.  Strange  dreams, 
however,  disturbed  the  fourth  night.  My  identity  got 
hopelessly  mixed  up  with  that  of  Horus  ;  the  steam- 
launch  and  the  ship  I  had  copied  at  Edfu  temple  be- 
came a  composite  craft,  with  the  iassoed  hippopotamus 
serving  as  a  drag  anchor.  I  resented  the  anxiety  shown 
by  the  goddess  in  the  prow  to  meet  the  handsome 
young  king  on  the  bank,  and  felt  I  was  handicapped  in 
my  courtship  by  having  a  hawk's  head.  My  divinity 
was  outweighed  by  the  good  looks  of  the  mortal,  and  I 
was  preparing  to  use  my  spear  in  as  effective  a  manner 
on  him  as  I  had  on  the  hippopotamus,  when  the  boat 
bumped  heavily  against  the  bank  and  awoke  me. 

I  was  shivering  on  the  rock,  having  fallen  out  of 
my  bed,  and  was  soon  conscious  enough  to  know  that 

270 


A    NATIVE    HOSPITAL 

I  had  fever.  I  never  sleep  out  of  doors  without  having 
a  blanket  handy  to  pull  over  me  in  case  of  a  sudden 
drop  in  the  temperature,  and  I  made  use  of  it  now.  I 
could  not  trust  myself  to  climb  down  the  rock  and  get 
to  the  more  sheltered  place  of  my  companions,  nor 
could  I  make  any  one  hear  me.  Slowly  the  night  went 
by,  shivering  fits  alternating  with  fantastic  dreams — yet 
no  inclination  to  rise  came  with  the  dawn.  I  heard 
shouts  from  below  that  breakfast  was  ready,  but  all  the 
breakfast  I  wanted  was  a  dose  of  quinine.  My  friend 
climbed  up  bringing  me  the  drug,  and  was  anxious  to 
see  what  was  the  matter.  Thinking  it  was  a  touch  of 
the  malarious  fever  which  for  years  I  had  been  subject 
to,  I  hoped  that  in  a  day  or  two  I  should  be  all  right 
again,  I  could  not,  however,  remain  where  I  lay,  for 
as  the  sun  got  up,  so  my  rock  became  untenable.  Get- 
ting into  the  shade  of  the  tomb,  which  we  called  our 
living-room, ways  and  means  were  discussed,!  acquiescing 
in  whatever  my  friend  proposed. 

Assuan  was  the  nearest  place  where  a  doctor  could 
be  found,  and  a  four-mile  ride  would  take  us  to  the 
nearest  station  on  the  line.  A  train  left  about  two 
o'clock,  and  donkeys  might  be  obtainable  at  the  nearest 
village.  We  drifted  down  the  Nile  to  the  nearest  spot 
from  which  we  could  ride  to  the  station,  and  while 
writing  these  lines  that  ride  comes  back  to  me  as  a 
horrible  nightmare.  The  midday  sun  of  June  in  Upper 
Egypt  is  carefully  avoided  by  those  in  the  best  of  health, 
even  when  a  well-saddled  donkey  is  obtainable.  But 
ill  as  I  was,  with  nothing  but  a  sack  of  straw  for  a  saddle, 
the  trials  of  that  ride  are  indescribable.      My  sketching 

271 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

umbrella  and  pith  helmet  were  a  protection  from  the  direct 
rays  of  the  sun,  but  none  from  the  scorching  heat  which 
rose  from  the  baked  soil.  When  we  left  the  sandstone 
rocks  on  our  right  we  got  on  to  the  cultivated  land,  and  I 
could  see  the  little  station,  across  the  plain,  trembling  in 
the  heated  air.  I  managed  somehow  to  get  there  without 
tumbling  off  the  straw  sack,  and  I  had  that  sack  taken 
off  my  donkey  to  use  it  as  a  pillow  on  the  station  floor. 
Some  fellaheen  were  lying  about  on  the  flags,  and  even 
they  seemed  overcome  with  the  oven-like  heat  of  the 
station,  on  the  flat  roof  of  which  the  vertical  rays  of 
the  sun  had  been  beating. 

The  train  service  in  Upper  Egypt  is  excellent  while 
the  tourist  season  is  on  ;  but,  as  may  be  supposed,  few 
trains  crawl  along  the  desert  track  in  midsummer. 
Happily  there  is  generally  one  first-class  car  attached, 
on  the  chance  of  some  official  being  obliged  to  make  a 
journey,  and  in  this  car  there  is  often  a  sunk  well  in  the 
floor,  which  serves  as  a  small  ice  cellar.  I  had  at  other 
times  unfavourably  contrasted  the  luxuriousness  of  the 
official  car  with  the  cattle  trucks  which  seemed  good 
enough  for  the  natives.  I  forgave  them  readily  enough 
now,  while  I  greedily  drank  of  the  cold  water  obtainable 
by  means  of  the  ice  cellar.  Fortunately,  also,  one  decent 
hotel  remains  open  at  Assuan  after  the  more  luxurious 
ones  put  up  their  shutters.  I  could,  therefore,  look 
forward  to  a  comfortable  bed  after  the  five  long  hours 
of  the  train  journey. 

When  the  proprietor  seemed  satisfied  that  I  had 
neither  the  plague  nor  cholera,  a  room  was  got  ready 
for  me,  and  the  only  European  doctor  then  in  Assuan 

272 


THE  VILLAGE  OF  MARG 


A    NATIVE    HOSPITAL 

was  soon  at  my  bedside.  He  was  a  kind-hearted  Swiss 
missionary,  who  had  still  four  days  to  remain  here  before 
he  left  for  Jerusalem,  and  should  I  not  be  well  enough 
to  move  then,  the  permanent  medical  man  at  the  dam 
could  be  sent  for  from  Shellal.  He  said  I  was  down 
with  sunstroke,  and  ordered  an  ice-bag  to  be  put  to  my 
head,  and  told  me  I  could  put  another  on  my  chest  if 
I  liked.  He  looked  in  again  about  midnight,  and  several 
Englishmen  also  called  to  offer  any  assistance  they  could 
give.  Who  they  were  and  what  they  said  I  only  found 
out  when  I  returned  to  Egypt  the  following  season. 
One  sentence,  however,  I  understood,  and  that  was  that 
the  thermometer  had  reached  124  degrees  in  the  shade 
during  the  afternoon.  I  was  also  conscious  enough, 
when  left  alone,  of  a  cutting  pain  in  the  right  side  of  my 
chest,  and  decided  to  dispense  with  the  ice-bag  there 
until  I  knew  what  this  pain  meant.  I  heard  voices  in 
another  room,  and  a  declaration  of '  no  trumps,'  also  an 
argument  about  '  going  diamonds,'  and  I  felt  a  certain 
comfort  that  countrymen  of  mine  were  near  at  hand. 

While  I  lay  awake  that  night  a  curious  sensation 
that  I  was  two  people  got  hold  of  me.  Was  it  I  or  my 
double  who  felt  this  cutting  pain  ?  And  whose  turn 
was  it  to  take  the  medicine  the  doctor  had  left  ?  It 
was  very  nasty,  and  I  rather  resented  that  my  double 
had  not  fairly  shared  in  the  taste.  The  Ka  (which  the 
ancient  Egyptians  believed  was  born  with  the  body,  as 
distinct  from  the  soul)  served  as  a  guardian  spirit  or 
'  double,'  who  accompanied  the  mortal  during  his  life- 
time and  tended  to  his  wants  after  death  as  long  as  his 
remains  were  preserved  in  their  mummy  state.      One  of 

2  M  273 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

us  must  be  this  Ka^  I  thought  ;  and  whether  I  or  the 
other  fellow  was  the  '  double '  exercised  what  little  mind 
I  could  bring  to  bear  on  the  subject. 

The  Swiss  missionary  came  early  the  next  day,  and 
was  evidently  not  satisfied  that  sunstroke  was  entirely 
my  complaint.  He  sounded  my  chest,  and  called  out, 
'  Oh,  it  is  pleurisy.'  He  seemed  very  excited,  and  said 
that,  though  occupied  most  of  his  time  with  people's 
bodies,  it  was  their  souls  which  concerned  him  most. 
'  As  a  doctor  I  can  give  you  no  hope,  but  as  a  mission- 
ary I  can  tell  you  that  everything  is  possible  with  God. 
What  is  your  name  ? '  I  told  him  this,  and,  startled  as 
I  was,  I  still  puzzled  whether  the  name  applied  to  me 
or  to  my  '  double.'  I  can  just  recall  the  good  man 
going  down  on  his  knees,  and  also  his  loud  and  earnest 
prayers  ;  but  owing  to  my  semi-delirious  state  I  can 
recall  nothing  of  the  latter  but  the  good  man's  foreign 
accent. 

Why  pleurisy  should  have  so  much  alarmed  him  I 
cannot  say,  as  I  can  recall  many  who  have  got  the  better 
of  it.  One  good  thing  about  it  was  that  I  could  be 
attended  to  by  the  hotel  servants,  who  up  till  that  time 
would  not  answer  my  bell  ;  they  evidently  were  not 
satisfied  till  then  that  I  was  not  down  with  cholera. 
The  fever  abated  somewhat  with  the  new  treatment, 
and  I  was  able  to  recognise  Weigall  and  one  or  two 
other  acquaintances  who  looked  in.  The  doctor  was 
most  attentive,  and  advised  my  going  with  him  as  far  as 
Assiout,  where  there  is  a  good  hospital  run  by  the 
American  Mission.  He  called  in  the  native  medical 
man  to  get  a  second  opinion  as  to  whether  I  could  do 

274 


A    NATIVE    HOSPITAL 

the  journey,  and  between  the  two  of  them  it  was  decided 
that  I  had  better  risk  the  journey  than  risk  remaining 
in  the  terrible  heat  of  Assuan  without  any  means  of 
proper  nursing. 

The  Swiss  doctor  would  accompany  me  as  far  as 
Assiout,  and  he  would  wire  to  the  mission  to  have  me 
met  at  the  station  and  take  me  to  the  hospital. 

We  left  Assuan  after  I  had  been  there  four  days, 
and  a  friend  who  was  a  manager  of  the  line  got  a  sleep- 
ing-car put  on  to  the  train.  We  started  in  the  morning, 
and  after  a  thirteen-hour  journey  we  reached  Assiout  in 
the  dead  of  night.  Here  I  had  to  part  company  with 
the  Swiss  doctor,  who  was  on  his  way  to  Jerusalem. 
Now,  whether  the  telegram  ever  reached  the  mission  or 
not  I  can't  say  ;  anyhow,  the  doctor  looked  in  vain  for 
any  one  connected  with  the  hospital.  A  good  Samaritan 
in  the  shape  of  a  Scot,  connected  with  the  government, 
had  fortunately  travelled  down  in  the  same  train,  and 
by  good  luck  Assiout  was  his  destination  also.  I  can 
recall  his  carrying  me  to  a  carriage,  and  I  can  also 
recall  his  slapping  the  cheek  of  a  native  who  tried  to 
force  his  way  in  while  he  clamoured  for  baksheesh. 

He  rang  up  the  hall-porter  at  the  hospital,  when 
we  reached  it,  and  asked  if  I  was  not  expected.  The 
porter  knew  nothing  about  it,  and  said  every  one  had 
retired  for  the  night  •,  there  was,  however,  an  emptv  bed 
in  the  room  kept  for  occasional  paying  patients.  I  was 
then  placed  on  that  bed  while  the  porter  was  sent  to 
inform  the  head  of  the  mission  of  my  arrival.  On  his 
return  he  told  us  that  the  hakim  was  dressing  and  would 
be   down    in   a  few   minutes  ;   there   was   therefore   no 

275 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

occasion  for  the  Scotsman,  who  had  been  such  a  friend 
in  need,  to  wait  any  longer.  It  was  then  about  one 
o'clock,  and  I  lay  on  that  bed  till  half-past  seven  in  the 
morning  before  I  saw  another  soul  except  that  porter, 
and  he  kept  out  of  my  way  as  much  as  he  could,  for  I 
don't  believe  he  ever  went  to  the  doctor's  rooms. 

Never  shall  I  forget  that  night,  and  how  I  regretted 
that  I  had  not  spent  it  in  the  train  and  gone  to  a 
hospital  in  Cairo.  The  porter  snored  in  the  passage 
until  it  was  time  for  him  to  give  out  doses  to  the 
patients,  and  then  he  rang  a  bell  just  over  the  entrance 
to  my  room  and  bawled  out  the  names  of  those  who  were 
to  take  their  medicine.  The  watchmen  in  the  street, 
at  intervals,  called  wahed  with  a  long  plaintive  drawl  on 
the  last  syllable,  and  this  started  every  sleeping  dog 
barking  once  more.  A  fretful  baby  in  a  dormitory 
next  to  my  room  put  a  treble  to  the  bass  notes  of  the 
watchmen  and  the  howling  of  the  dogs.  I  tried  to 
awaken  the  snoring  brute  of  a  porter  so  that  I  might 
get  something  to  drink  ;  but  my  voice  was  not  strong 
enough  to  have  any  effect,  and  I  had  to  lie  there 
perishing  with  thirst  till  the  time  came  for  that  dreadful 
bell  to  be  rung.  When  finally  he  brought  me  a  glass 
of  milk  my  '  double '  was  once  more  keeping  me 
company — and  one  small  glass  for  two  people  seemed 
a  perfect  mockery  of  my  thirst.  Thus  I  lay  in  the 
clothes  I  travelled  in  till  a  vision  of  a  ministering  angel, 
in  white  cap  and  pinafore,  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

She  asked  the  porter  who  I  was  and  when  I  had 
arrived,  for  until  that  moment  no  one  in  the  hospital 
was  aware  of  my  existence   except   that   lying   porter. 

276 


A    NATIVE    HOSPITAL 

She  sent  for  the  doctor,  got  a  sleeping-suit  out  of  my 
trunk,  and  with  the  help  of  a  male  attendant  she  put 
me  to  bed. 

Dr.  Henry,  an  active,  rather  over-middle-aged 
American  who  has  charge  of  the  mission,  was  about  as 
great  a  contrast  to  the  little  Swiss  doctor  as  it  is  possible 
to  conceive.  He  asked  no  questions  till  he  had  sounded 
my  chest,  and  then  gave  the  ministering  angel,  otherwise 
Sister  Dora,  orders  to  prepare  a  pneumonia  jacket. 
'  Ever  had  pneumonia  before  ? '  he  jerked  out,  and  on 
my  saying  that  I  had  not,  and  also  that  the  Swiss 
doctor  said  I  had  pleurisy,  he  retorted, '  Guess  you  've 
got  both.'  Possibly  lying  all  night  between  the  open 
window  and  door  had  added  this  to  the  list  of  my 
complaints. 

Dr.  Henry  was  too  practical  a  man  to  waste  much 
thought  on  idle  speculations  as  to  causes  ;  here  was 
something  definite  to  go  for,  and  he  went  for  it  in  good 
earnest.  'That  lung  is.  clearing  itself  tiptop,'  he 
would  say  with  professional  pride  after  the  fourth  or  hfth 
examination.  The  sunstroke  was  curing  itself,  unless 
my  '  double,'  who  had  left  me,  had  gone  off  with  it. 
The  pneumonia  jacket  and  the  night  noises  were  my 
chief  discomfort  after  a  few  days.  Assiout  was  distinctly 
cooler  than  Assuan,  though  there  is  plenty  of  room  for 
heat  without  reaching  124°  of  Fahrenheit  in  the  shade. 
A  cotton-wool  jacket  about  two  inches  thick  was  a 
severe  trial  and  it  stuck  to  me  like  a  wet  hot  sponge, 
and  before  it  was  thinned  down  to  vanishing  point  I 
was  covered  with  prickly  heat  which  I  did  not  lose 
till  after  I  had  got  back  to  England. 

277 


AN    ARTIST    IN     EGYPT 

I  was  very  anxious  to  write  home,  as  my  wife 
must  have  been  alarmed  at  not  having  heard  for  some 
time.  The  Swiss  doctor's  gloomy  forecasts  might 
easily  be  correct,  and  I  wished  to  put  my  affairs  in 
order.  Writing  was,  however,  such  an  exertion  that 
I  decided  first  to  ask  Dr.  Henry  whether  my  chances  of 
recovery  were  good,  and  if  so  to  put  off  correspondence 
until  I  could  more  easily  manage  it. 

I  asked  him  to  tell  me  if  I  was  likely  to  die,  and 
his  short  '  Guess  not '  acted  as  a  stimulant,  and  one  also 
which  was  not  followed  by  a  reaction.  Had  I  not  had 
that  irritating  prickly  heat  I  should  have  enjoyed  the 
feeling  of  daily  gaining  strength.  Three  other  nurses 
used  to  come  and  relieve  Sister  Dora  ;  the  head  one 
was  a  fine  strapping  American  lady  with  a  strong  and 
cheery  face  which  acted  like  a  tonic.  There  was  also 
a  sister  from  Holland  who  could  wash  me  as  clean  as 
a  Dutch  milk-can.  I  could  chat  with  her  in  her  own 
language,  and  while  we  talked  of  the  juicy  green 
meadows  of  her  country,  it  seemed  to  make  my  room 
feel  cooler.  I  saw  least  of  the  German  sister,  who  had 
some  accident  cases  which  took  up  most  of  her  time. 
What  a  godsend  to  have  educated  women  who  will 
devote  their  lives  to  alleviating  the  sufferings  of  so  many 
people  ! 

The  hospital  was  full  to  overflowing  ;  but,  being 
the  only  European  patient,  I  had  the  room  allotted  to 
them  to  myself  The  two  assistant  doctors  were  both 
ill  themselves,  and  the  whole  burden  fell  on  Dr.  Henry 
alone  and  his  excellent  nurses.  No  wonder  he  had 
not  much  time  for  conversation. 

278 


A    NATIVE    HOSPITAL 

Sister  Dora  had  been  in  Morocco  before  she  came 
to  Egypt,  and  was  able  to  tell  of  her  experiences  while 
nursing  the  sick  in  Fez.  I  was  also  interested  to  hear 
about  this  mission,  and  how  it  is  supported  ;  for  it  is 
a  large  building,  equipped  for  a  hundred  in-patients, 
which  number  was  at  that  time  using  it.  It  is  a  great 
work,  and  though  Assiout  has  a  good  government 
hospital,  there  is  more  than  room  enough  for  both. 
Subscriptions  to  the  mission  fell  off  when  statistics 
showed  that  converts  from  Mohammedanism  were  few 
— a  proof  of  Dr.  Henry's  honesty ;  for  the  converted 
Egyptian  Moslem  hardly  exists,  whatever  other  statistics 
may  attempt  to  prove.  He  did  a  great  work  amongst 
the  Copts,  Assiout  being  more  or  less  their  headquarters, 
and  a  large  proportion  of  the  patients  in  the  hospital 
were  Copts. 

One  Sunday  afternoon  a  chorus  of  men  singing  in 
the  next  ward  surprised  me.  The  tune  seemed  familiar, 
and  tunes  rendered  by  unassisted  Egyptians  are  not 
always  easy  to  follow.  It  was  an  Arabic  version  of 
Sankey's  'Safe  in  the  Arms  of  Jesus.'  Loud  prayers  to 
Allah  followed,  asking  Him  to  look  down  in  compassion 
on  these  sick  people.  It  was  very  touching  to  hear  the 
afflicted  ones  calling  out  Ameem  !  Ameetn  !  whenever 
there  was  a  pause  in  the  deep  voice  of  the  Elder.  I 
was  informed  by  Sister  Dora  that  a  Coptic  Plymouth 
brother  visited  that  ward  (which  was  set  apart  for  the 
Christian  patients)  every  Sunday,  and  held  a  service.  A 
sermon  in  Arabic  with  no  mention  of  Mohammed  was 
new  to  me,  and  familiar  texts  in  that  sonorous  language 
sounded    very    much    as    they    must    have    sounded    to 

279 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

Hebrew  ears.  The  Arabic  of  an  educated  Egyptian 
has  a  strong  affinity  with  the  original  language  of  the 
Old  Testament. 

After  about  ten  days  Dr.  Henry  told  me  that  my 
lung  was  cleared,  '  and,  mind  you,  if  you  had  not  been 
a  teetotaller,  you  could  never  have  pulled  through  this.' 
I  had  to  disappoint  him  by  telling  him  that  I  had  never 
taken  the  pledge  ;  the  disappointment  did  not  abash 
him,  as  I  expected  it  would.  '  The  little  you  've  taken 
has  made  no  difference,  anyhow,'  was  his  answer.  I 
seldom  feel  the  want  of  stimulant,  but  I  felt  it  strongly 
then.  I  longed  for  a  glass  of  port,  and  I  told  him  so. 
He  shook  his  head :  total  abstinence  was  the  rule  of  the 
mission.  There  was  something,  however,  in  my  next 
medicine  that  proved  that  the  word  '  total '  must  not 
always  be  taken  too  literally.  It  tasted  very  like  a 
favourite  prescription  friends  in  Oporto  order  on  the 
least  provocation.  I  drank  Sister  Dora's  health  in  it, 
likewise  that  of  the  three  other  ladies  who  brightened 
the  lives  of  all  who  entered  this  hospital.  The  only 
health  the  three  doctors  seemed  to  neglect  was  their 
own.  One  had  to  leave,  during  my  stay,  to  try  to 
recruit  in  a  cooler  climate,  another  was  awaiting  an 
operation,  and  Dr.  Henry  looked  as  if  the  strain  of 
overwork  was  telling  on  him. 

I  left  Assiout  by  the  same  night  train  which  had 
brought  me  there  from  Assuan,  and  recruited  sufficiently 
during  ten  days  in  Cairo  to  enable  me  to  take  the 
homeward  voyage. 

Having  arrived  at  Assiout  and  having  left  it  also  dur- 
ing the  night,  I  have  seen  no  more  of  what  is  considered 

280 


A    NATIVE    HOSPITAL 

the  capital  of  Upper  Egypt  than  I  could  sec  from  my 
bedroom  window  in  the  hospital. 

I  often  feel  indignant  at  the  sneers  the  very  word 
missionary  provokes  amongst  the  self-indulgent  people 
I  meet  in  the  hotels  in  eastern  countries  ;  for  whatever 
the  religious  or  moral  convictions  of  these  critics  may 
be,  their  self-indulgence  contrasts  unfavourably  with  the 
self-denial  of  the  many  missionaries  I  have  happened  to 
meet. 

After  a  stay  of  three  months  in  England,  I  was  ready 
to  return  to  Egypt  to  complete  a  series  of  water-colour 
drawings  for  a  future  one-man  show  in  London.  The 
incidents  related  in  this  volume  have  not  always  followed 
a  consecutive  order  :  some  took  place  after  my  return 
to  Cairo,  when  also  several  of  the  illustrations  to  this 
book  were  painted.  At  Luxor  I  ran  across  my  Scottish 
good  Samaritan,  whom  I  had  not  seen  since  he  left  me 
to  the  care  of  the  hospital  porter.  He  asked  me  if  I 
remembered  his  slapping  the  face  of  the  man  who  had 
importuned  us  while  we  drove  from  Assiout  station,  and 
on  my  replying  that  I  did,  he  told  me  that  on  the 
following  day  he  received  a  summons  to  appear  before 
the  Mamoor  for  assault  and  battery.  This  might  have 
led  to  very  serious  consequences  had  the  Mamoor  reported 
him  to  his  chief  in  Cairo,  for  to  strike  a  native  is  as 
much  as  an  Englishman's  place  in  a  government  office 
is  worth.  It  would  also  have  been  an  easy  way  for 
the  Mamoor  to  gain  popularity  with  the  Moslems,  to 
have  got  a  British  official  dismissed  for  such  an  oi^ence. 
Fortunately  the  Scotsman  had  made  the  Mamoor's 
acquaintance   on   a   previous  visit   to  Assiout,  and   both 

2   N  281 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 

men  liked  each  other.  When  the  native  had  told  his 
version  of  the  services  he  had  rendered  and  the  brutal 
reward  he  received,  my  friend  explained  what  really 
happened,  namely,  that  while  he  was  lifting  an  ap- 
parently dying  compatriot  into  the  cab,  this  man,  who 
had  done  no  more  than  to  pick  up  the  hat  which  had 
fallen  off  the  sick  man's  head,  tried,  in  his  greed  for 
baksheesh,  to  force  his  way  into  the  cab  as  it  was 
driving  off.  For  this  impertinence  he  received  his  slap 
in  the  face. 

'  Come  here,'  said  the  Mamoor,  '  and  show  me 
exactly  where  you  were  struck.'  The  man  approached 
and  showed  his  left  cheek,  whereupon  the  modern 
Solomon  gave  him  a  smart  slap  on  the  right  one,  and 
told  him  that  neither  cheek  could  then  be  jealous  of  its 
fellow. 

For  once  I  left  Egypt  before  the  exodus  of  the 
tourists,  as  I  was  due  in  Japan  before  the  cherry-trees 
had  shed  their  blossom.  As  the  ship  slowly  moved 
through  the  Suez  Canal,  the  remembrance  of  unpleasant 
hours  I  had  spent  in  Egypt  vanished  with  the  smoke 
from  the  funnel,  and  only  happy  recollections  sped  me 
on  my  voyage  from  the  Near  to  the  Far  East. 


INDEX 


Aahmes,  Queen,  182. 
Ababdi,  212. 

guide,  208,  229,  237. 

Abbas,  Prince,  34,  36,  40-1,  76-7,  139. 
—  —  murder  of,  142-4. 

his  post-mortem  honours,  148. 

Abydos,  90. 

Arab  nomads  from  the  Hedjaz,  241-2. 
Ashura,  the  festival  of,  164-7. 
Assiout,  280. 

hospital  at,  275-80. 

Astrologer,  the  court,  142. 
Azhar,  el-,  73,  107. 

Bab  en-Nasr,  19. 

■  Zaweyla,  105. 

Babylon,  Roman  castle  of,  121-2. 

Baird,  General,  242. 

Bais/ieesh,  49,  185. 

Barber,    primitive    procedure    of    the, 

192.3. 
Baths.     See  Hammam. 
Bazaars,  4,  7,  8,  31,  58. 
Bciram,  163. 
Bcit-ci-Kadi,  2. 

Bfloiu  the  Cataracts,  11,  121,  178,  224. 
Birds  seen  in  the  desert,  211,  219. 
Blue       Mosque.       See       Mosque      of 

Alcsunkur. 
Bougainvillea,  171. 
Bowden  Smith,  Herman,  50,  56. 
Bride,  Mohammedan,  14. 
Briiish  troops  in  Cairo,  131-4. 
Butler,   Dr.   A.    J.,   author   of  /Ancient 

Coptic  Churches  of  Egypt ^  122. 


Camels,  132,  183  208-9,  213-14. 

skeletons  of,  221-2. 

Carter,  Howard,  198,  200. 
Characteristics  of   the    modern    Egyp- 
tians, 185. 
Clothes,  8,  II,  i6,  114-15,  126. 
Cobra,  198-9. 
Cock-fighting,  79. 
CofFec,  80,  98. 

shops,  17,  18,  78. 

Copts,  90-103,  124-5,279. 

their  churches,  I18-21. 

Catholic,  124-5. 

Coral  reefs,  253-6. 

Crayfish,  253-6. 

Currelly,  Professor  C.  T.,  157,  178. 


Defterdar,  Ahmed  el-,  74. 
Der  el-Bahri,  178,  194. 
Dervishes,  26-30. 
Desaix,  General,  242,  249-50. 
Desert,  the  Sahara,  92,  95. 

antiseptic  air  of,  186,  190-1. 

journey    in    the    Arabian,    206- 

244. 
Diivaan,  or  divan,  52. 
Doctors,  Missionary,  273-5,  277-80. 

Native,  203-4. 

the  Syrian  hakim,  252-3. 

Dogaan,  el-,  141,  143. 
Doseh,  the,  167-8. 
Dragomans,  11,  58-9. 

Drink,  the  consumption  of,  80. 
Durkaah,  52. 


=  83 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 


Edfu,  camping  in  temple  of,  259-66. 
Egyptian    Art,   beauty    of  early,    182, 
233-4>  262,  265. 

Exploration  Fund,  157,  178-9. 

Elfy  Bey,  141,  147-8. 
Esbekiyeh  gardens,  171. 
Eye-doctor,  190. 
Eyth,  Max,  34,  139,  142. 


Fakirs,  25-6. 

Fatimid  Khalifs,  71-3,  106. 

Fellaheen,  182-5. 

Festivals,  153-168,  170-1. 

Fikee,  or  schoolmaster,  109-10. 

Flies,  195,  197- 

Foreigners,    as    regarded     bv    natives, 

185-6. 
French  Agency  in  Cairo,  the,  176. 

army  in  Egypt,  241 -2,  249-50. 

Funerals,  Mohammedan,  18-20,  45. 


Gamalieh,  EL-,  48. 
Games,  81. 
Gawhar,  71. 

Gebel-Silsileh,  259,  267-9. 
Graffiti,  220,  222-4. 
'  Guarded  city,'  71. 
Gurna,  184-5. 


Halim  Pasha,  144. 
Hamtnam,  53,  143. 
Hamseen,  136,  141,  164. 
Hareem,  5,  14,  52,  84. 
Hasaneyn,  festival  of  the,  31. 

quarter,  7. 

Hasheesh,  248. 

Hashshah,  69,  70. 

Hatshepsu,  temple  of,  179,  i8i-2. 

Henry,  Doctor,  277-80. 

Herodotus,  saying  of,  208. 

Herz  Bey,  22,  175-6. 

H inter  Pflug  und  Schraubstock,  34,  1 39. 


Holy  Carpet,  festival  of  the,  153-5. 
Holy  Familv,  journey  of  the,  1 19. 
Hoseyn,  32-3. 
Hospitals    of    the    American    Mission, 

188,  277-80. 
natives'  fear  of,  187,  203. 


Insane    fellah,   experiences   with    an, 

200-2. 
Insanity  regarded  as  a  form  of  saintli- 

ness,  26. 
Inscriptions,  220,  222-4,  233-5,  239. 
Ismael  Pasha,  49,  89,  176. 


Jacaranda,  the  blossom  of  the,  172-3. 
Jones,  Mr.  Palmer,  90,  98-9. 


'  Kahira-el-Mahrusa,'  72. 

'  Kasr-esh-Shema,'  121. 

'  Khaleeg,  el,'  43,  70. 

Khan  Khalil,  4,  7,  8,  31,  58. 

Kiiweh,  el.     See  Holy  Carpet. 

Kosseir,  245-57. 

mosque  at,  249,  251-2. 

Laketa,  oasis  of,  217-20. 
Lane's  Modern  Egyptians,  16,  III. 
Liivan,  52,  106. 


MaHMAL,  EL-,  153-55. 

Mahmood  Hanafy,  67. 

Mamelukes,  36,  40,  142,  144,  148-50. 

Mandarah,  51. 

Mankaleh,  8 1,  107. 

Manners    and    Customs     of  the    Ancient 

Egyptians.     See  Wilkinson. 
Mansoor,  58,  65. 
Mariette,  263. 

Marriages,  Mohammedan,  12,  13. 
Mastaba,  7,  8,  33. 


184 


INDEX 


Missionaries,  125,  281. 

Modiste,  French,f86. 

Mohammed    Ali,   34,   41,   74)  76.  §5' 

»39- 
Mohammed  Brown,  11,  57. 

Mo'izz,  71-2. 

Mosques  of  Cairo — 

Aksunkur,  1 16. 

Ayyub  es-Salih,  24. 

Bark{lk,  2,  21. 

Beybars,  48. 

Hassaneyn,  31,  165. 

Kalaun,  2,  21-4. 

Salih  Talai,  es-,  105. 

Tuliin,  1 18. 

Restorations  of,  23,  107. 
Mousky,  the,  i,  46. 
Mu'allaka,  el-,  121. 
Mudir  of  Kosseir,  245-52. 
Muristan,  cl-,  4. 
Mushrbiyeh,  5,  6,  47,«52,  176. 


Nahasseen,  2,  18. 

Nakht,  tomb  of,  183. 

Nicol,  Erskine,  200,  207,  212. 


O'DoNALD,  Captain,  34-42,  134. 
Miss,  35,  39,  42. 


Omdeh  of  Gurna,  202. 


Parker,  Herbert  R.,  258-9. 

Petrie,  Professor  Flinders,  198. 

Pilgrims,  95,  154-5. 

Polygamy,  16,  17. 

Ptolemies,   period   of  the,   180,  233-4, 

261,  265-6. 
Pyramid  Bedouins,  127. 
Pyramids,  127. 


Queen  Thiy,  178,  222-3. 


Ramadan,  the  fast  of,  156-7,  160-2. 
Rames,  142,  146,  148. 
Red  Sea,  243. 
Reliefs,  262,  265,  268. 


Saheime,  Sheykh  Ammin,  50. 

Said  Pasha,  140,  145  ;  accession  of,  147. 

Salih,  es-,  151. 

Salt  and  Soda  Company,  9I,  93. 

Saracenic  Art,  73. 

Schools,  1 17. 

Scorpions,  187-90,  260. 

Sluidoof,  218. 

Sharks,  244,  251. 

Shauwal,  month  of,  163. 

Shcea  Heresy,  73,  106. 

Sheeas,  32-3,  164-7. 

Shegcr-ed-Durr,  I  5  1-2. 

Shiites.      See  Sheeas. 

Shoara^  76,  15  I. 

Sladcn,  Douglas,  118. 

Smells  of  Cairo,  46. 

Sphinx,  the,  127-34. 

'  Spray  of  Pearls.'    See  Sheger-ed-Durr. 

Surgery,  amateur,  191. 


Tarbouch,  8. 
Temples  of — 

Denderah,  261. 

Edfu,  259-66. 

Hatshepsu,  179,  18 1-2. 

Medinet  Habu,  179. 

Philae,  259. 
Thebes,  178,  258. 
'Tommy  Atkins,'  131-4. 
Tourists,  59,  194-6. 
Tramways,  70,  127. 
Tristram,  Canon,  199,  227. 
Tumbakiyeh,  cl-,  47. 


Ulema,  an  Azhar,  141,  147. 


28s 


AN    ARTIST    IN    EGYPT 


Villa  Victoria  Hotel,  83. 

Wadi  Natrun,  92. 

VVakfs'  administration,  22,  44. 

Weigall,    Arthur,    Preface,    207,    220, 

223,  231-2,  274. 
We  lee,  18,  1 9. 


Whvmper,  Charles,  207,  211. 
Wilkinson,  79. 


ZiKR,  26-28,  32,  164. 
Zogheb,  Count,  174-6. 
Zohra,  Story   of  the   Princess,   34-42, 
74-7,84,85,  139,  15 1 -3. 


Printed  by  T.  and  A.  Constable,  Printers  to  His  Majesty 
at  the  Edinburgh  University  Press 


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